


The Blood Moon.

by Michaelssw0rd



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: After Camlann Big Bang, Canon Era, Fate & Destiny, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Magic Revealed, Magical Creatures, Mystery, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 20:09:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 43,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11858796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michaelssw0rd/pseuds/Michaelssw0rd
Summary: There is news of mysterious disappearances in a village bordering the Forest of Brechfa. Prince Arthur goes to investigate and finds himself getting wrapped in unexpected series of events, enchanted by both the forest and its one particular resident.





	1. Phase 1: New Moon.

**Author's Note:**

> Art for this fic is done by [Jo](http://incalescentember.tumblr.com). It’s imbedded into the story, and can also be found here on [tumblr](http://incalescentember.tumblr.com/post/164411030718/fanart-for-fanfic-michaelssw0rd) and [LJ.](http://jo10702.livejournal.com/489.html)
> 
> Alright, phew. Here it is. I thought maybe it will never be done…  
> This is my first big bang fic, and I couldn’t have asked for a better support group. I am just SO incredibly grateful to everyone who listened to me whine and whine and whine about writing and were infinitely patient and told me it was worth it to continue. And also, terribly sorry for being a stuck record about it… but please know I wouldn’t have ever finished this story without you all. ♥
> 
> The ACBB mods have been utter darlings and made me feel completely relaxed and stress free (despite how stressful it must’ve been to organize such a huge fest). Thank you. This has been an experience. An extremely wonderful one.
> 
> I am just gonna declare my undying love to my beta now, be warned. I have actually offered to sell her my soul if she is interested.[ Sky](http://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky), darling, you’ve been a miracle worker. You have not only corrected all my wayward commas and my grammar liberties, and my utter lack of knowledge of British spellings, but you’ve also helped me make the plot better. My soul is still on the table as payment.
> 
> Also, [Enki](http://archiveofourown.org/users/enkiduu/pseuds/enkiduu), my cheerleader, was one of the major reasons I kept writing this, and updating my gdoc as often as I could. Because she treated it like a WIP and it was SUCH A PLEASURE to find comments, and someone asking for more. You were the best cheerleader anyone could ask for. Thank you.
> 
> And then there’s Jo.  
> And for her, I have no words. I would let her art speak for it, because she creates magic. It’s utterly jaw-droppingly stunning, and I have productively utilized many hours of my life staring at her illustrations.  
> Your art has stolen my heart, and I am sure you know that already. Thank you for agreeing to pair with me, and thank you for all the art you made, and thank you for how unstressed and calm you have been, helping me feel more excited than anxious.

Arthur was not afraid.

He was trembling because of the cold draft whistling through the trees, and he was drenched in sweat because of the nauseating humidity of the forest. His knees were bruised and bleeding because of how many times he had tripped and fallen over the roots, and his heart was racing because of how fast he had been moving for the past hour.

Arthur was lost, not terrified.

Fear was not something a prince was allowed. He was ten years old now, old enough to wield a sword, grown up enough to have earned the right to accompany the knights on their hunting trip. His father expected him to bring back a kill deserving of a prince’s initiation, and he was more than ready to impress the King.

Somehow, he had failed to account for how difficult it could be to keep up with the party once they entered the forest. The knights were tall, and their legs carried them at a pace Arthur could not manage, but that was just an excuse. He could place the blame of getting lost on the disgusting clamminess of the woods, or the sickening sweet smell of the rotting trees and leaves making Arthur desperate for fresh air and fogging his mind. Or it might be the voice in his head.

Ever since he entered the forest he had been hearing someone calling his name. _‘Arthur_ ,’ a melodic female voice that beckoned him, growing stronger with every step he took. “ _You are here_.” No amount of shaking of his head had succeeded in dislodging the echo of the eerie presence inside his mind. “ _Come to us. We have been waiting_.” One step in front of another… Arthur could do that. He wasn’t a child and he was not scared.

Ignoring the voice as best he could, he kept trying to follow the footsteps of the knights but his eyes were becoming glassy, his vision fading in and out, a strange darkness enveloping his mind and before he knew it, he couldn’t even hear the sound of footfalls of the company in front of him. He was stuck in a really thick portion of the woods, mist surrounding him, with the voice in his head become louder and more insistent _, ‘Arthur, Arthur, stay there, wait for me_ ,’ and Arthur did the only sensible thing he could think of.

He ran.

Not having any sense of direction whatsoever, he ran where his heart led him, in the direction where the voice slowly started to grow feebler rather than louder, tripping and falling in very undignified and un-princely ways. The branches whipping across his face and arms were leaving small lines of trickling blood and his palms were a mess of abraded skin, but he kept sprinting. He was certain that if the voice caught up to him, he wouldn’t be able to escape; warning bells were going off in his brain and survival instincts kicking in. His pace became faster and faster, the voice growing fainter and fainter.

“Oomph.” Without warning he collided with something solid and fell, all the air rushing out of his lungs.

“Ouch.” Apparently it wasn’t a tree he had crashed into.

“Where did you come from?” Arthur moaned from where he was lying on the ground, glaring with all his princely indignation.

“Me? You are the one who was running like there were ghosts chasing you.” The boy, now that Arthur blearily focused, had also fallen - on his arse, he noted with a vicious sort of satisfaction.

Arthur could not think of a retort to that, so he remained quiet. Saying that yes, he had been running from a voice in his head, would make him look stupid, but raised a liar, he was not…

Noticing his silence, the boy got up and came closer to him, where Arthur was lying collapsed on the damp grass in some sort of a clearing. When the boy saw how harshly he was breathing and took in all the cuts and bruises he had accumulated he immediately grew concerned. Giving him a hand he asked,

“Are you okay?”

“Of course I am okay. I don’t need any help,” Arthur protested just to be contrary, but took the hand he was offered. He wasn’t sure if he could’ve gotten up on his own.

“Sure you don’t.” The blue eyes of the boy twinkled. Arthur noticed that the boy was almost the same age as him, but a lot scrawnier, with dark hair and pale skin, and large pointed ears.

“I really don’t. I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, yes. I am sure.” He was being made fun of, he could tell. Nobody made fun of the Prince. Didn’t the boy know he could be put in stocks for this? “There is…” the kid tried to move his hand towards his hair, and backed off when Arthur flinched, “there are leaves in your hair,” he finished, chuckling.

Mortified, Arthur ran his fingers through his badly entangled hair, and shook off what seemed like a whole bush of twigs and leaves.

“What are you even doing here?”

“I live here.” The boy shrugged.

“You mean you live close to the forest?”

“No,” he looked at Arthur like he was stupid, “I live here.”

“Stop joking. Who even lives in the forest?”

“A lot of things do.” The boy started saying, and then suddenly he looked concerned, “You don’t?”

“Nobody lives in a forest.”

“Listen to me. You mean to say you don’t live in the forest?”

“Of course I don’t. I live in a castle. I am Prince Arthur.”

The boy gasped at hearing that. Served him right. He should know better than to speak like that to his future King. Maybe, finally, Arthur would be shown some respect.

“You can’t be here. Why are you here? You shouldn’t be.” Instead, the boy looked like he was having a downright panic attack, so Arthur thought he should clarify.

“I wasn’t supposed to be. I just got lost,” he said, sheepish.

“They will take you. You need to leave. You need to get out of here. Go. Go.” He was pacing now, making shooing gestures towards Arthur, periodically pulling his hair in agitation.

“You can’t tell me what to do. I am the Prince.”

“I don’t care. They don’t care. _She_ … doesn’t care.”

That made Arthur’s heart quicken. How could he know?

“She will take you. Please, you should leave,” the boy said ugerntly.

“Why would she take me?” Princes weren’t allowed to be scared, so Arthur tried to be brave and stood straighter, ignoring the rapid beat of his heart.

“Because you are pretty.” He looked downright miserable saying this, biting his lips and shaking his head.

“I am not pretty. Girls are pretty.” Arthur felt happy despite himself though- a compliment was a compliment after all- but the boy just gave him a look that shut him up.

“Why were you running? How did you get lost?”

Arthur felt a sudden urge to confide, and he felt like this boy might not consider him crazy after all.

“I heard a voice,” what little colour there was in the boy’s face drained, making him look chalk white.

“Inside your head?” he asked in a whisper.

Arthur nodded.

“You should never have come here. Please, don’t ever come here again. Ever.” He was begging, and Arthur suddenly felt angry.

“I told you, I got lost. It wasn’t my plan to be traipsing around the forest all alone, separated from the knights,” he said, furious at the boy for telling him what to do, and upset with himself for getting lost in the first place.

“You came with other people?” he looked at him hopefully, taking a deep breath and composing himself.

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“Twelve.”

“Alright.” He nodded decisively, and then suddenly just flopped down on the ground. He splayed both of his palms on the forest floor, and closed his eyes. To Arthur it looked like he was meditating, and he started feeling annoyed at the boy for ignoring him after all the warnings. It didn’t help that he could feel a building pressure inside his mind again. He didn’t want the voice to come back.

A minute later the boy opened his eyes, stood up and extended his hand.

“Let’s go,” he said, at the same time as a whisper spoke inside his head, ‘ _Arthur_ ’.

Actually scared now, he grabbed the hand the blue-eyed kid offered to him, clutching it tightly, and ran with him as he took off in a sprint.

“Where are we going?” Arthur asked breathlessly.

“To your friends.” He didn’t even sound slightly out of breath.

“Who are you?”

“I am Merlin.”

“That’s a weird name.”

“Shut up and run will you? There isn’t enough time. She is close.”

“Who is _she_?”

Merlin didn’t answer him. Arthur quieted down and concentrated on the path. He would never admit it but Merlin’s hand holding his helped, both in navigation and in giving him courage, and he just focused on keeping up with the supernatural speed the other boy had set.

“I… can’t.” His feet were dragging, his lungs burning. “Slow down,” Arthur wheezed after what felt like hours of running.

“Almost there.”

And then Arthur could hear it. Gruff, male voices calling out his name, the metals and shields clanging around, people shuffling in different directions.

So they had finally noticed he was lost. Good to know.

Merlin came to a halt when the voices were very close and Arthur was sure he would be able to see them in a dozen or so steps. Only a few trees were between them and the company of knights.

“Go.” Merlin gestured, still looking worried.

Arthur gulped, nodding and turning away. Suddenly he turned back and looked at the boy who had saved him- he wasn’t even sure from what.

“Thank you.” His voice was hoarse from where his throat had clogged up, but he could easily blame that on the exertion.

“Not a problem.” The boy smiled, he had a really nice smile.

“You are pretty too.” He suddenly remembered to return the compliment and that made Merlin laugh.

The noise of the party of knights was moving away, and Arthur didn’t want to lose them again, so he looked towards the forest and back at Merlin, saying, “I have to go.”

“Yes. Don’t get lost again.”

“I won’t,” Arthur promised, and turned away, taking a couple of steps towards the other side.

Suddenly wanting to ask Merlin to come with him- it could not be safe to live in the forest, especially if there was a ghost that took pretty people- and he whipped around saying,

“Hey…”

But Merlin was nowhere to be found. Where a minute ago his savior stood, there was empty clearing now.

Feeling disappointed, Arthur followed the cacophony a group of knights could make in the quiet of the woods, and braced himself for their concerns and questions.

Distantly, he realized he had never even asked Merlin how he knew where to find them.

 

 

**~~12 YEARS LATER~~**

Strike! Duck! Jab! Breathe!

Step back! Bend! Thrust! Duck! Breathe!

It was almost hypnotic for Arthur. Getting lost in the dance of warriors, listening to the sounds of metal striking metal and the periodic calculated breaths- because in battle, a second wasted in breathing at the wrong moment could cost you your life. Training the knights was his favourite part of the day. Some people preferred meditation to clear their mind and summon their energy reserves. But the Prince did not have the disposition for it.

His teachers had tried, but they all concluded that Arthur just didn’t have the discipline to clear his mind enough. Predictably, Uther had been disappointed. What they hadn’t realized was, Arthur did not lack discipline. It wasn’t impossible for him to reach a meditative state of mind. Stillness and quiet just wasn’t the path to take for it. Instead, he found harmony in action.

Shield! Thrust! Twist! Don’t breathe! Shove and…

“I win.”

There was a scattered applause when Arthur took off his helmet and smiled. Owain shook his head, smiling ruefully from where he had fallen on the ground. Arthur’s sword tip was on his neck, and in a real fight he would be dead.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but that was an improvement.” Arthur smirked as he withdrew his sword and sheathed it.

“Losing again, for what… the hundredth time? I am sorry if I don’t agree with you, Sire.” Owain grinned back; winning was never the goal, and the knights knew that.

Arthur turned around and explained, “You can’t expect to win against me. That would be foolish. What matters is… you lasted longer.” And then his voice took on a teasing tone, “Well, half a minute longer, but it is an improvement nonetheless.”

The gathered knights laughed, and Owain joined them. Arthur started moving back to the middle of the field. He took out his sword and swung it in an arc, getting ready to challenge someone else. Before he could choose, a maid came running towards him.

“Sire,” she called out.

Arthur held up a hand as a universal sign of 'wait' towards the knights and moved towards the girl- young, plain and looking terrified at the prospect of talking to the Prince. Arthur smiled, trying to get her to relax but by the way the girl stiffened he probably didn’t look any less intimidating; armored, swinging a sword, and flushed from exertion- he could hardly blame her.

“What is it?” he asked gently.

“Sire. I am so sorry to interrupt, Sire. But His Highness wants to see you. Sire.”

Arthur ran his fingers through his hair. As much as servants respecting him was his right and tradition, it was taxing to see people treating him with so much deference and downright terror. Sad to see the training end, but knowing he didn’t have a choice when the King called, he went back to his knights to tell them they could practice among themselves. Their sigh of relief was very uplifting. It was always nice to know that your prowess with the sword could instil fear in the hearts of the most fearless men of the kingdom.

He went to the changing quarters next to the armoury and a servant hurriedly came to help him take the armour off. After ridding himself of all the metal, Arthur craved to go to his room and take a bath before starting the day but if his father thought it important enough to interrupt training, he would be highly displeased if Arthur stopped to indulge in the comfort of warm, clean water.

So much for being royalty.

He stopped by his room long enough to change into something a little more formal, in case there was a delegation in the throne room he had not been aware of, and then started making his way there. A guard flanked his side automatically, but he waved him away. He did not need protection in his own damn castle.

Uther was sitting on the throne, wearing his crown. There was a group of villagers around him, and Arthur mentally patted himself for having the foresight to change. He went and stood beside the King, hands clasped at his back, in full attention. Uther looked at him and nodded once, before turning his attention back towards the man kneeling in front of him.

“Now, tell me. What brings you here?”

“Your Highness,”” he said in a rough, pleading voice. Arthur felt vaguely uncomfortable at the tone. He grew up with the status but never could get used to people treating the royalty like gods. “A grim fate has befallen the people of our village.”

“You’re from the village of Yinale? At the edge of the Forest of Brechfa?”

“That is correct, My Lord.”

“Hmm.” Uther nodded, scratching his chin. “What is this misfortune you speak of?”

“There’s a siren, Sire. She calls the young men of the village to the woods, and they are never heard of again.”

Uther chuckles at that. “You’re telling me that there’s a woman who is eloping with the men of your village, and you decided to come to me for help.”

“Not a woman, Sire. No.” The man shakes his head, “No one has seen her face. We just hear her voice, calling, always calling.”

Arthur shivered at that, the words reminding him of a distant nightmare.

“Nonsense,” Uther decided. “I am sure this is all just village gossip. You should know better than to waste the time of your King.”

Uther motioned the guards to escort the man out. Arthur turned towards Uther as the guards moved, hesitating when Arthur said, “Surely we can spare a few men. Check the village and the woods out. It wouldn’t be a hardship.”

Uther looked at him in disappointment, “Arthur, we should not encourage such rumours. The knights have a lot on their plates. We have a kingdom to defend.”

“But…”

“Enough.” The finality in his tone made Arthur close his mouth. There was no use arguing with the man.

At Uther’s nod, the guards grasped the man’s arms, pulling him away. He struggled against their hold, protesting, “Sire. I beseech you. It’s no human doing these things. We have lost dozens of able-bodied men over the last few seasons. You have to help us. There’s an evil force driving this. It is magic.”

Uther looked bored, until the last sentence. Stiffening, he held up his hand and everyone stilled.

“Magic, you say?” Uther asks.

“Yes, My Lord. I am sure there’s a hand of magic in all of this. Please. She took my son. You have to help us.”

Uther contemplated, folding his hands and watching. Arthur could tell his mind was made. It always was, where magic was concerned.

“Arthur.” He turned towards him after a few moments and Arthur nodded.

Taking a step forward, he stood face to face with the man. “What is your name?”

“Ranir, Sire.”

“Very well, Ranir. I will gather a group of trusted men, and they will head towards your village tomorrow morning. You will lead them there and be their guide.”

“Thank you.” The man dropped to his knees again. Uncomfortable, Arthur pulled him back up to his feet, and patted his shoulder. Ranir bowed again, before hurrying out. Arthur watched his retreating figure for a few moments before slowly turning around.

“You believe him, Father?”

“No.” Uther relaxed into his seat, looking at Arthur shrewdly.

“Then why?” he was thoroughly confused.

“Because it’s not the first time someone has come to me with this complaint.”

Arthur gaped. He had never heard of a siren before. Uther waited for it to sink in before continuing, “Over the past two decades, once or twice a year someone from the outskirts of Camelot, and sometimes even from Mercia, comes a similar plea. Of a woman, a siren, a witch, seducing their men and leading them away… never to be seen again.”

“Sounds like a common story of someone falling in love.”

“It does,” Uther agreed, “But it doesn’t hurt to be careful. You can never be careful enough where magic is involved. I want this matter thoroughly investigated, and closed.”

“Yes, Father.”

“I want you to accompany the knights.” Even though he was expecting it, he still could not help the flinch at that order. He always felt a certain reluctance toward going near _that_ forest. “I need to be sure.”

He nodded. It was a King’s order, not a father’s request. The nagging feeling he had in his heart was not something Uther would entertain.

Arthur spent the rest of the day deciding on which knights to take on the quest with him. He had almost made up his mind by the time night rolled around. At dinner, after Uther left, Morgana looked at him with a twinkle in her eyes.

“I hear you’re chasing a Siren, little brother.” Her voice was all mischief, and Arthur frowned. “An enchantress.”

“Shut up, Morgana.”

“Want me to make you a talisman, to protect you from evil eye?”

He rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself.

“Do you need instructions? A little help? I wonder if you even know what to do with a woman, once you catch her.”

Arthur dragged his chair and got up. Morgana was in a mood for teasing, and that never ended well for Arthur. “For your information, I have been with lots of women.”

“Oh really?” Morgana raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes, her expression beckoning Arthur to share.

Arthur huffed and then stomped away, Morgana’s tinkling laughter following him. He wouldn’t admit it, but her teasing lifted his spirits, chasing away the sense of foreboding that had enveloped him all day.

He went to bed early, knowing the next day was going to be spent on horseback.

_It was dark and he was lost, the air heavy and thick, making it hard to breathe. He was running, hiding, because someone was following him… panting, frequently looking over his shoulder. Hours- or it may be minutes- later, he tripped, turning right before he fell, and saw a shadow descend on him. It had bright blue eyes, and a terrifying smile. A beautiful- chillingly familiar- voice murmured, “Arthur, I caught you at last,” before slithering down and engulfing him, and choking his scream._

Arthur jerked awake, a scream still lodged in his throat. The sheets under him were soaked in sweat, and he was breathing heavily. He took a few large gulps of air, waiting for his heart rate to calm down, before sinking back into the bed with a sigh, too tired to change the sheets.

It had been years since he last had that nightmare.

 

It was two days' ride to the village of Yinale. Arthur and the knights, together with Ranir, made their way there with haste. Without the company, Arthur thought he would’ve covered the distance within a day, but he tried not to be annoyed by their slow pace. He had chosen Pellinore, Geraint, Ethan, and Owain for the quest, and they were the best knights Camelot had to offer.

“Tell me about your son, Ranir?” Arthur asked, when they were setting camp for the night.

“My son?”

“Yes. The one you said the Enchantress took? How long ago was it?” Arthur needed more information to go on. The story didn’t make sense.

“Five days ago, Sire!” Ranir looked a little dazed, too exhausted by the journey to Camelot, and the day’s ride.

“What is his name?”

There was a pinched expression on his face, and he closed his eyes for a second, grey hair falling in front of his face and covering it. Arthur was concerned he had made him remember some painful memories, before Ranir’s eyes snapped open and he said, “Gerard. His name is Gerard.”

Arthur nodded, turning away before remembering something else. “In the throne room, you said something about dozens of other men that have met similar ill fate.”

Ranir worried his bottom lip before saying, “Yes, Sire.”

“Can you tell me about them?”

“I…” Arthur had never seen anyone look so confused before, looking around as if he was lost, “I am afraid I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I remember it. But I don’t. Why can’t I remember anything?” He clutched his hair in one of his hands and pulled, looking like he was on the verge of panic.

Arthur thought it was time to intervene. He placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, patting it. “It’s alright. You are stressed. These have been difficult days. I am sure a night’s sleep would help. Me and my men will do everything in our power to help your village,” he reassured.

The man looked at him gratefully, tears shining in his eyes, before whispering, “Thank you.”

Arthur left him there, joining the knights by the fire. They chatted idly for a while, everyone exhausted from the ride. Soon, everyone settled down for sleep. Arthur volunteered for the first watch, worried about having the nightmare again. When he did fall asleep, he dreamt of the forest, of running away from something, but then he felt a hand in his, guiding him, and blue eyes, glinting next to him. He felt safe, outrunning the darkness until he reached the end of the woods, into the light again.

 

The next day they reached Yinale. It looked calm, the way small villages in the outskirts usually are. There were children running around, and women washing and hanging clothes. Arthur noticed he barely saw any men, other than old gents going about their business. Nobody seemed to find it odd though.

After Ranir retired to his home, wanting to check on his wife and daughters, they asked around about Gerard, hoping to acquire more information about him, but unsettlingly few people seemed to know anything about him. One of the old ladies talked about how he used to steal her chickens when he was a child, but when they asked her about his description she looked confused.

“Doesn’t something about this whole situation seem odd to you?” Arthur gathered his knights together at the end of an hour.

Sir Pellinore looked bemused, “There’s something troubling about this village. It’s like everyone has collective amnesia.”

“Yeah. I asked an old man if he had any sons, and he said no. There was a picture on his wall of three young men standing with him. He couldn’t remember who they were,” Geraint added.

“Something is definitely wrong,” Owain agreed. Arthur looked towards Ethan but he just shrugged his shoulders, as baffled as the rest of them.

“We need to go into the forest.” Arthur straightened up, glancing where the trees were obscuring the horizon.

“Sire. I don’t think now is a good time. We should wait until morning.”

Arthur considered Geraint’s suggestion, looking around. The sun was indeed setting, and the woods ahead were unfamiliar to them. They would not be able to navigate the forest without light. Even if there was no magical creature lurking there, a wild animal might attack and kill them. He didn’t like the delay, but it was the wiser plan. He nodded.

“Alright. We will spend the night in the village, and then move at first light. Let’s find a place to rest.”

It turned out, Ranir and his family were more than willing to let the Prince and the knights use their beddings and have something to eat. Finding an inn would’ve been better but Arthur knew that turning away hospitality was considered bad manners; and manners were something that were ingrained in him since childhood. So he ate the bland food, and laid down on the hard cot, and tried not to think about the forest. One good thing about not having comfortable sleep: he did not dream.

 

Next morning, Arthur decided that it would be easier to scour the forest if they divided into groups. Owain and Pellinore were supposed to go left, Ethan and Geraint right, and he was to go straight ahead.

“But Sire…” Ethan protested, “You shouldn’t go alone.”

Arthur looked up from where he was crouching, drawing a rough plan on the ground, and gave Ethan a dry look. “Are you questioning my decisions?”

Ethan looked sheepish, but added, “Your life is more important than ours. It does not seem wi- uh, prudent, for you to head into danger alone.”

“I am the strongest of you all, or have you forgotten your trainings?” Arthur stood up now, towering.

“No, My Lord.” Ethan took a step back, and then kneeled on the ground, lowering his gaze. This was an apology for forgetting his place, Arthur knew that. He clapped the man on his shoulder, forgiving, and then looked at the rest of the men. They all looked a little worried.

“Cheer up, men!” Arthur laughed. “We will meet back here at noon. If you run into a problem, do not engage. Get back to the rendezvous point and we will go in together. Understood?”

They all nodded in assent. Getting ready to leave, Arthur noticed Ranir’s wife coming towards them carrying something.

“My Lord,” she bowed, “I brought you some food and water for the way.”

“Thank you.” Arthur took the small satchel, and the knights did the same.

“Good luck on your quest, Sire,” the woman wished, “I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”

That stopped Arthur short. “We are looking for your son, lady.”

“Oh.” There it was, the blank look Arthur was beginning to dread. She could not comprehend what he had said. Then she shook her head and said, “Well, of course. I hope you find him. May the gods illuminate your path!”

Unease gnawed at his insides as he turned towards his men. Something was not right about this place, and he wasn’t sure he would find the answer to it in the forest. Arthur was afraid the woods would end up confusing him more, but there wasn’t any other way.

With great trepidation, he stepped into the forest, and motioned the knights to take their respective paths.

 

Arthur leaned against a tree, sighing. He had been wandering in the forest for a while now, and had lost track of the time. It was awfully difficult to tell how much time had elapsed when surrounded by the quiet stillness of nature. His legs ached, and the humid air made his clothes stick to his skin, the chainmail weighing him down. In all this time, he had found nothing even slightly suspicious about the forest. The most foreboding thing he had come across was a vulture feeding on the corpse of a dead rabbit. He had decided that there was nothing of interest here, and that they must have been mistaken. It was as ordinary a forest as he had ever seen. There were only a few animals- the predators fewer still, and even those were intelligent enough to not attack the prince.

Well to be fair, the lack of any large animal attacking him was a little strange. Animals did not discriminate between types of prey. All food was food. But Arthur assumed that this area of the forest must be lacking in the dangerous animals.

An hour or so ago, he had decided to turn around and go back to their meeting point and wait for the knights to regroup- maybe the other two groups would’ve had more luck. But the thing about dense forests was- how did you know which way led back?

Arthur tipped the water canister up, drinking greedily, and closed his eyes. He was honest enough to admit this: he was lost. Mentally, he cursed himself for not marking the path he took, and banged the back his head lightly on the trunk of the tree. If he lingered here any longer, the knights would get worried and set out in his search, and that would be plain insulting.

He was startled by the sound of sudden laughter. Drawing his sword, he looked around, alert for any sign of danger, but only saw trees spread out in all directions. The laugh was repeated and he whipped around, swinging his sword, ready for any sort of attack.

“Lost again are we, my friend?” An amused voice called out, and Arthur suddenly understood why he couldn’t see the speaker. With a sigh, he looked up.

Perched on a branch of a tree in front of him, was a boy- no, a man. Thin and gangly, with extremely messy hair and a large grin stretching his lips. Something about his appearance made Arthur think about the fairy tales the bards from across the kingdoms used to tell, about the legends of elves. They were banned in the castle, but Arthur had sneaked out enough times as a child to be familiar with them. It was probably his ears, large and slightly pointed as they were, instantly noticeable alongside his pale, thin face.

“Do I know you?”

The boy looked at him curiously, and Arthur noticed his eyes were startlingly blue; familiarly so. It was not a rhetorical question. Then the man smiled again, and jumped from the branch, landing on his feet. Arthur marveled his stability- that was quite a fall, and he had made it look almost effortless, more graceful than anyone else Arthur knew could have. The strange looking man then took a few steps towards him, and extended his hand.

“I am Merlin.”

Arthur sheathed his sword, his stance relaxing. “So I don’t know you.”

“Not really.” Arthur could bet there was something amusing about this situation, some joke he wasn’t privy to.

“Then why did you call me your friend?”

“That was my mistake,” Merlin winced, withdrawing his hand.

“Yes. Yes, I think it was.” Arthur hid his discomfort and confusion behind his arrogant mask. He was the prince, and it didn’t suit his people to be overly familiar with him.

“Yes. I would never be friends with someone who was such an ass.”

Arthur jerked back at the insult. “Nor I with one who was such an idiot.” The man seemed to have a death wish. “Don’t you know who you’re talking to?” Arthur asked, outraged.

“Let me see, am I talking to someone who is lost and needs my help in finding their way back? Hmm. No, I don’t think so.”

“I am not lost.” Arthur was honest with himself, but that didn’t mean he was going to go around telling the truth to everyone.

“Alright, then. Have fun finding your way out.” Merlin shrugged, turning around.

“Wait,” Arthur called out. Merlin turned around and looked at him expectedly. Damn it. He chewed his lip, and then lowered his head- and his ego- to admit, “I am lost.”

“Aha!” The look of triumph on Merlin’s face was insulting but Arthur decided to let it go. He needed the help. But instead of giving him instructions, Merlin just stood there, waiting.

“What?”

“I am waiting for you to ask.”

Arthur had to grit his teeth at that. “Show me the way out.”

“Ask nicely,” Merlin corrected his original demand, and Arthur threw his hands up.

“Forget about it. I can figure it out myself.” He turned around and started stomping away in a random direction. It was not like he could get _more_ lost. If he kept walking, maybe he would reach a clearing eventually.

Merlin laughed from behind him, which made him stomp his feet harder, and deliberately ignore the hurrying steps behind him.

“You sure get offended easily.” Merlin matched his pace now, walking alongside. While Arthur was focusing on not tripping, and was trying to avoid the branches unsuccessfully, Merlin seemed to be skipping through the rough terrain like it was a clear path.

“You’re going in the wrong direction, by the way,” he randomly commented and Arthur’s feet froze on the spot. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Looking heavenwards, he bit out the word, “Please.”

“Of course.” A clap on the back and then Merlin was turning around and saying, “Follow me,” with a cheeky grin.

Merlin was good at navigating the forest, and he knew it. He would skip ahead of Arthur, until he lost his sight, and when Arthur would be sure he was lost again, he would pop his head out from behind a tree, or call out from above, teasing him about being slow. It was endlessly annoying.

“How are you so familiar with this forest? Do you live close by?” Arthur asked after the fourth time that happened.

“You can say that,” Merlin answered cryptically, walking ahead.

Arthur nodded. Villagers living in the settlements around the woods would know their ins and outs of the forest. He was half convinced that’s what happened to Ranir’s son. It was easy to wander in too far and not know how to get back out. He realized asking Merlin might be a good idea.

“Have you seen many lost men around here?” he asked after a while, when he stopped to catch his breath.

“Just you,” Merlin turned around and teased, but he had a guarded look on his face. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that I received complaints about men getting lost in the woods, never to be seen again.”

Merlin laughed at that. If Arthur had not been looking for it, he wouldn’t have noticed the slight hysterical edge to the sound. As it was, he wondered if he had imagined it. “Only people idiotic enough to enter the Brechfa’s forest without knowing their way, are the ones that get lost. Like this one cabbage head prince that I know of… you wouldn’t believe-”

Merlin was close enough that Arthur could cuff him on his head, so he did. “Ouch,” Merlin rubbed the sore spot, and looked at him accusingly, “is this how you treat your saviour?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Less talking. More saving.”

They continued on, until Arthur almost felt like the woods were familiar once more, thinner. He looked at Merlin, who had been awfully quiet for the past half hour. He knew he was the one who asked for less talking, but the quiet of the forest was plain disturbing.

“Merlin?”

Merlin gave a non-committal huff and Arthur stopped, placing his hands on his hips. “I am your Prince, Merlin” – it didn’t matter that he wasn’t sure if Merlin’s village fell under Camelot’s reign- “you will answer me when I ask something.”

Merlin looked at him, and the insolence was obvious in his eyes. It was already a familiar sight. “Yes, _Sire_.”

Arthur decided to ignore the tone, because he knew pushing it would only lead to even more frustration. The man had no regard for royalty. He blamed it on lack of proper exposure to society- raised in a forest as he was. “Have you ever noticed anything strange… in here?”

“Strange?” Merlin’s smile vanished.

“Yes. Dangerous,” Arthur clarified, “Magic.”

“It’s a forest.” Merlin shrugged, “Everything is dangerous here. Everything needs to eat- and hungry looks a lot like monstrous from the other side.”

Arthur got quiet after that, an odd discomfort settling into his stomach. “I would be careful if I were you. The woods aren’t safe. You shouldn’t wander in here.” He was a Prince. He had a duty to protect his people.

“Isn’t that what I should be telling you?” he countered. Arthur bit back his retort at that- mostly because he couldn’t come up with anything better than ‘ _Shut up’_. He almost didn’t hear Merlin add the next few words, “Nowhere is safe anyway.”

“What?” Arthur asked, not sure if he heard right.

“Nothing,” Merlin started walking again, turning away, “Let’s hurry. We should get back before people start worrying about their Prince being abducted.”

That sobered him up. He had been gone too long. He could only hope the knights had not recklessly wandered into the forest again. It took another quarter of an hour until Arthur could appreciate the marked decrease in the density of trees. Merlin stopped after another a few paces, and leaned against a tree.

“We’re here. I told you I would get you here, and I am a man of my word.”

Arthur stopped, and looked at Merlin. As annoying as his chatter had been, he suddenly realized that this strange man had not bowed to him even once. Had not worried about hurting Arthur’s fragile ego. With quite some astonishment he realized that he had actually had more fun being lost, than he had ever before in his life.

And that he didn’t really want to leave.

But he could see the sun now, slowly descending towards the horizon, and he had a duty. He couldn’t go traipsing across a forest with a stranger- no matter how fun. He nodded.

“Thank you.”

Merlin grinned, like he had won something. “Just don’t get lost again.”                 

There was something remarkably familiar about that statement. Arthur’s head snapped up.

“You.” He raised his finger and pointed at him.

“Now he remembers.” Merlin threw his head back and laughed.

“You… when I was a child… you!”

“Yes. It was me. I have saved your life twice now. I won't hold my breath for the reward.”

“Oh God,” Arthur groaned. He couldn’t believe it. He had made an idiot of himself in front of the same person… twice.

Merlin laughed and shoved him towards the end of the forest, “I already knew you were an idiot. So no harm done.”

Arthur groaned louder.

“You’re lucky it was me who found you. Not somebody else.” There was a seriousness to his tone that made Arthur turn and look at him, but he was looking into the distance, deep into the forest.

“Merlin?” He asked, concerned.

“Can you do me a favour, Arthur?” Merlin asked, sombre.

“Of course.” The man had technically saved his life. He could give him whatever he asked for in return.

“Please don’t come here again.” Merlin faced him, and there was a plea in his eyes that made his throat go dry.

“Wha..”

Merlin laughed then. It was forced- nothing like the lighthearted chuckles thrown his way for the last few hours- but it broke the tension. “I really don’t want to see your dumb face around these parts. And I really don’t want to take on the job of being your personal guide through the forest. I am not getting paid for that.”

Arthur smacked the rambling idiot on his head for worrying him, and started walking away. A few paces ahead, he turned around and, unwilling to say goodbye, he called out , “I will be seeing you around then.”

“I hope not.”

It was a joke, he knew it was. But there was a thread of sincerity in it, that made Arthur feel off-balance for a moment. But then Merlin waved and said, “Goodbye, _Sire_ ,” with as much disrespect as he could muster, and Arthur huffed and walked away.

He looked back when he was at the edge, and could still see Merlin in the distance, giving him a mock salute. He cursed himself for not asking the name of his village- how was he supposed to reward the man if he wasn’t sure where he lived? It made him uneasy to be in someone’s debt.

**

The knights were moving around restlessly at their designated rendezvous point and Arthur could see them rushing towards him the moment he was out of the forest.

Pellinore was the first to reach him. “My Lord. We were just about ready to come looking for you.”

Arthur clapped him on the back, “It’s a good thing you didn’t.”

“Are you alright, Sire?” Ethan was out of breath, Geraint on his heels.

“I am fine. Just didn’t expect the forest to be as dense as it was.”

All three of them nodded. “I suppose none of you found anything in the forest?”

“Nothing that didn’t belong there. Only animals and such, Sire.”

“Hmm.” Arthur considered that for a few moments before reaching a decision. “I think it’s safe to say that whatever happened to Ranir’s son, it doesn’t have anything to do with the forest.” He waited for them to agree before continuing. “In that case, we cannot linger here any longer. We will convey this information to the villagers, and then we can make our way back to Camelot.”

The Knight’s faces fell. The long journey sounded exhausting, but Arthur did not want to encroach on Ranir’s hospitality any longer. Anyway, a Prince’s place was in the castle. He did not like leaving it for more time than was strictly necessary. Despite their exhaustion, none of them protested- they really were the finest knights he could ask for.

“Wait… Where’s Owain?” Arthur stood straighter, alert all of a sudden.

“Uh,” Pellinore started. Arthur waited for him to continue, “He is over there.” Pellinore pointed in the distance. Arthur could barely make out the Camelot red.

“Is he alright?” he asked, concerned.

“Yeah…” the knight looked a little wrong-footed but then nodded, “he… I think he ate some berries in the woods. He isn’t himself,” Pellinore explained.

“How so?”

“We separated for a while in the woods, wanting to cover more distance. When I found him, he was giggling and behaving like a lad after too many drinks in the tavern.”

“Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.” Geraint clapped Pellinore on the back and everyone chuckled.

They went to the village after that, Owain joining them. He did look a little intoxicated to Arthur, and he reprimanded him about eating things carelessly. He was lucky the berries hadn’t been poisonous. The knight just grinned in response. Geraint was right; they had to wait till whatever he had ingested was out of his system. Arthur made a note to have Gaius look at him when they got back, just in case.

They knocked on Ranir’s door, and waited for the man to come out.

“My Lords,” the man looked surprised to see them again so soon, “how can I help you?”

The knights stood a respectable distance at his back as Arthur conveyed his apologies. “We just came back from the quest.”

“I hope it was a successful one, Sire.”

“I am afraid not.” Arthur looked down. He felt awful telling the man the bad news- it was a blessing that the forest was not a lair for a dark magical creature, but not for a man who had lost his son.

“Oh?”

“I am sorry we could not find Gerard.” He could not fathom what losing a son would be like, and prepared himself for an angry lashing. Prince or not, he would allow the man to express his rage.

“Who?” Ranir asked instead and Arthur’s head snapped up.

“Your son. The one you said was lost. You came to Camelot to ask for help.” Arthur could not believe he had to remind the man of that.

“I am sorry, My Lord.” Ranir shook his head, “You must be mistaken. I don’t have a son. I only have two daughters.”

 

Merlin leaned against the tree, feeling the way it breathed and syncing his inhales with it. He watched the retreating back of the Prince of Camelot and sighed. The air already felt colder, the warm hues that Arthur generated fading with his every step. Everything had been bright- red, orange, gold- for the last few hours and Merlin already ached with the loss of it, surrounded once again by the dull damp colors that constituted the forest, everything mingling with a dark, all-encompassing black, like a disease spreading through all life.

He closed his eyes and tried to recreate what Arthur’s aura felt like. How energetic and strong. Alive. He basked in the memory, realizing he might never feel it again. Selfishly, he wanted it. It had been a long time since he had felt something like that.

Merlin felt a sliver of purple permeate his senses, soft and mingling with the merciless black, and smiled when he heard a soft rustle as Freya stepped beside him.

“So that is the Prince,” she sounded awed, yet he could feel her envy. He couldn’t blame her. It was only natural to want that vitality, starved for it as they were.

“Yeah.” Merlin tried not to sound too wistful but failed.

“He seems nice.”

“He is.” He pushed away from the tree to look at her.

She looked weak- but that wasn’t anything new. She always looked weak. Everyone did. That was the life they were cursed to live. There was a haunted look in her eyes that made him more concerned.

“Freya. Did she make you do… did you?”

“No.” She shook her head, understanding what he didn’t want to say. “No. I didn’t.” She smiled ruefully. “She said it was too important, and that she couldn’t risk me ruining the golden chance.”

Merlin sagged, in selfish relief because his friend was safe. Those were the cards they were dealt. He couldn’t save everyone, but he wanted to protect the ones closest to him. “But she did hunt.”

It wasn’t a question, but Freya answered anyway. “Yes.”

“Which one?” Merlin wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but maybe he owed it to them to remember.

“One of the two in the east. He is strong. Not as strong as the Prince of course, but better than what we had the last few times.” Freya chuckled in self-hatred. Merlin could relate to that very well.

He could hear her breath rattle though, feel her aura weakening, the black overpowering it more and more. He felt into his own core, finding it green and brimming, and felt his mouth sour. It wasn’t fair.

“Here,” he held out his hand so Freya could hold it. She hesitated. “Come on.”

“But…” she protested. “I can’t accept that.”

“You can,” Merlin insisted. “I promised I will take care of you. I have plenty. I always have plenty.” His words were bitter, and Freya flinched.

Impatient, he grabbed her hand himself. She did not resist. He closed his eyes and let his core unravel, coaxing his essence to move through his veins and into the hand resting in his. He heard her sigh when she felt it, felt his life energy flow into her, and he pushed at it even more.

After a few minutes, Freya pulled away. He tried to resist, he had more to give, but her pulling was decisive, pulsing violet now, stronger than it had been moments ago. She sagged against the trunk next to him, and Merlin followed suit. He could feel his head reeling from the backlash of giving away his energy so recklessly. And yet, already, he could feel the tree behind his back lending small tendrils of it back, the ground under his feet replenishing what he had lost. Once, he would’ve tried to resist, tried to argue with nature that he didn’t need more. The tree was already fading, the smell of its decay evident. He couldn’t possibly justify taking more. But the forest had decided Merlin had to be brimming with magic, even if everything else died, and he couldn’t fight it.

It wasn’t fair.

But it was life. And he was trying to do the best he could.

He watched as Freya opened her eyes slowly, clearer than he had seen them in months, and caressed the trunk behind him, thanking it wordlessly. One day, he would repay the earth tenfold for everything it had given him.

“Thank you,” she whispered, grateful and ashamed.

“You never have to thank me,” he reassured vehemently. She shook her head, unable to see farther than her own weakness, unable to see that the cards she was dealt were not just.

They stayed like that for a while, until Merlin could feel the familiar pull inside his mind. Freya grimaced.

“She isn’t very happy with you.” She told Merlin needlessly. He could already feel it in every breath he took. He had displeased her.

Good.

He wasn’t afraid of her. But Freya would not understand that.

“At least the Prince is safe,” Freya offered as consolation.

“Yeah.” The thought did cheer him up, despite everything.

“What is he like?” Freya asked, curious.

Merlin considered that for a few moments, and then grinned. It was strange how smiles came easier to him when he thought about the blond idiot. “He’s a Prat.”

 

Arthur tried very hard not to think about Merlin in the next couple of weeks.

He immersed himself in his duties as the Prince, holding court, helping Uther with legal matters, and training the knights. The last one was where he took out most of his frustration, the knights dreading becoming his target. But their reflexes were improving and Arthur took vicious pleasure in that. It also helped that he was usually too tired to linger on any thought whatsoever come nightfall, collapsing into his bed.

The dreams were another matter.

He had not slept a single night without blue eyes haunting his dreams, a laugh ringing in his ears, or a cheeky smile lingering at the edge of his vision. Every time he tried to reach out and grasp it, the image slipped from his fingers like a mirage. There was the forest, always the forest, sometimes suffocating and closing in around him, but Merlin always seemed to come crashing in and brighten it up. Every night, Arthur woke up in his bed with a smile still lingering on his lips. He hated it.

So every day, he threw himself into work like a man possessed.

“Come on, Sir Bedivere. You know you could do better than that!” He taunted him as they sparred, cornering the Knight, waiting for the opportune moment.

“I am trying,” Bedivere protested, but he wasn’t trying hard enough. Frustrated, and wanting to block out the memory of Merlin’s smile, he moved fast, jabbing and thrusting, until he had the man collapsed on the floor, the dulled edge of Arthur’s practice-sword digging into his ribs.

“Pathetic.” He spat on the ground and turned away. He needed a challenge, some way to get rid of the excess energy. “Who’s going to fight me next, and this time, can someone please put some real effort in it?”

Nobody moved. He looked around, and everyone had their heads bowed. Well, everyone except one.

“Sir Owain?” he called, and the knight shook his head as if coming out of a trance. “Would you care to leave the dream world and join us in the present?”

He lowered his head, murmuring a quick apology. Zoning out during practice was absolutely unforgivable. “You’re next,” he decreed, and waited for the man to join him on the training ground.

Owain was a good knight, one of the better fighters in the group, and Arthur was looking forward to enjoying a good spar. But two moves into the fight, he realized that the man’s concentration was somewhere else entirely. After one strong shove, Owain dropped his shield. Two lunges and one well aimed strike of his sword later, Arthur had managed to make the knight drop his sword too. He kicked it away and snarled, “What is wrong with everyone today?” He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, managing to rile himself even further when he saw the image of a messy haired idiot behind his closed eyelids.

“Twenty laps of the ground, and a hundred pushups. All of you,” he ordered, and didn’t wait to hear their groan. The knights of Camelot could not afford to slack off like this. It was his responsibility to keep them in shape. “Or you’re going to be the ones cleaning the stables tonight. The servants can have a day off.”

 

“A hunting trip?” Uther rubbed his thumb on his chin, looking at him curiously.

“Yes, Father. The Kingdom is safe at the moment, and I am sure I speak for everyone when I say fresh meat would be very welcome.”

“You have a valid point,” Uther allows. “It can also serve as an opportunity for you to patrol the border villages, notice if there is any unrest.”

“Precisely.”

“Alright then, you can leave at dawn. Take a few knights with you, you might need them. Good luck, Arthur.” Arthur sighed in relief, turning around, but Uther’s question stopped him. “May I ask where you plan to go?”

Arthur hesitated, guilty, wondering if Uther would know his true intentions, before answering, “The Forest of Brechfa, Father.”

Uther simply nodded, unconcerned, and Arthur hurried out of the door before he could be stopped again.

 

The truth was, Arthur loved hunting trips. They gave him an opportunity to stop being a Prince for a few days, and just become a normal person, using a crossbow and hunting game to feed people. And he was damn good at it.

He had been stalking his prey for the better part of an hour, keeping an eye on it, quiet and patient. He waited for it to settle, then slowly raised his bow and took aim.

The deer never stood a chance.

Just before he released the arrow, there was a loud snapping sound, like that of branches breaking under someone’s feet. It created enough ruckus to startle the deer. Suddenly aware of the danger, it ran away. Arthur cursed, trying to chase it, but it had a natural advantage of speed that Arthur lacked.

“Damn it,” he swore, and turned around to give a tongue lashing to whichever knight had been stupid enough to ruin his game. He gaped at the sight.

“You,” he exclaimed, raising a finger and pointing it accusingly.

“You!” Merlin retorted.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He was far too annoyed right now to acknowledge the warmth blossoming in his chest.

“Err… Walking. You don’t own the forest, you know?”

“I was trying to hunt a deer, and now you’ve chased it away by your bumbling.”

“Sorry.” Merlin shrugged. He didn’t look even a little sorry.

Arthur sagged. He wasn’t really angry. Not when a smile was tugging at his lips because of seeing Merlin again, hearing his voice. He would die before admitting that, though.

“What the hell are you doing here again?” Arthur asked.

“Actually, it would make more sense for me to be asking that question, considering I live here and you don’t.”

Arthur scrunched up his face, “ _Considering_ I am your prince, you don’t get the right to ask me any questions.”

Merlin rolled his eyes skyward, before walking towards him. He looked the same as he had before, even his clothes were identical. Rough red tunic with a brown coat, frayed at the edges, and a blue neckerchief. As far as sartorial choices went, this was as awful as it got, and Arthur wished he didn’t find the look fetching on the man.

“You aren’t lost again, are you? 'Cause that wouldn’t surprise me.”

“I certainly am not!” Arthur was offended. Get lost twice, and suddenly people wouldn’t let you forget it. Granted, most people didn’t know about it- this was all on Merlin- but it was a totally unfair accusation. “Don’t you have any work? How do you have so much time, always traipsing across the forest?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Aren’t princes supposed to be very busy, with tasks of extreme importance?”

“I _am_ very busy. I am hunting.”

Merlin looked around, clearly surprised. “Oh, so that’s what you’re doing. I couldn’t tell, what with the lack of any dead animals.”

Arthur resisted the urge to put an arrow through Merlin’s eye, grinding his teeth. “I would’ve killed that deer, if you hadn’t been a clumsy idiot crashing all over the place.”

He stomped away, eager to find another large animal to take home. It would look really bad- and not to mention humiliating- if he went back to the camp without having anything to show. Merlin followed him, with a clumsiness that felt almost deliberate. He wondered if Merlin was actively finding all the branches that he could step on, just to rile Arthur up. If he kept making this much noise, Arthur was sure the animals would be able to hear them from miles away.

“Shhhh,” he scolded, but didn’t tell Merlin to go away. He couldn’t bring himself to do that.

And then there was the talking. The man seemed to have an inability to stop his incessant chatter, rambling about one thing or another. He talked about the forest, or the lifecycle of flies, about animals as they skittered away, and insulting Arthur. Always insulting Arthur. Arthur tried to put together what he could discern about the man from this information but Merlin had a unique talent of speaking but not really saying anything at all.

He managed to kill a few birds, and a rabbit. The moment his arrow sank into the small mammal, he heard Merlin gasp. Merlin hurried forward, sinking the arrow deeper and easing the rabbit’s suffering. When Arthur reached him, he could hear Merlin murmur something in a language he didn’t understand. There were tears shining in his eyes.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Merlin,” Arthur scoffed. “It’s just an animal.”

“It was alive. Its heart was beating. And now you have killed it. There should be someone grieving.” There was a fervency in his tone, a deep hurt. Arthur was startled for a second, but then shook his head.

“It’s food! Don’t tell me you don’t eat meat.” Merlin shook his head at that, and Arthur continued. “See.”

“Everything lives to feed something else,” Merlin whispered, as if quoting an old memory.

Arthur decided this was enough dramatics for the day and smacked Merlin on his head, saying. “Now, if you won’t stop stalking me, you had better make yourself useful and carry the animals I hunt.”

He ignored the disgusted face Merlin made, stalking away to find more hunting opportunities. He felt a thrill of satisfaction when he heard Merlin following.

It was later afternoon when he heard his stomach rumbling and decided to call it a day. The sun would be setting soon anyway. He looked at the pathetic collection of animals he had killed, and hoped the knights had had better luck.

They settled down, and he went to collect some firewood. Merlin was surprisingly good at starting fires, he found, and soon they had a pair of rabbits cooking over the flame. Arthur tried not to stare at Merlin, glowing in the firelight. The flames gave the impression of his eyes being golden, and his cheekbones cast shadows on his cheeks. Exhausted from the exertions of the day, Arthur allowed himself a moment of weakness to appreciate how utterly beautiful Merlin was. Not that he would ever say that out loud, but there was something… _magical_ … about him. Something otherworldly. It made Arthur want to unravel the mysteries that formed the man, take him apart and see how he worked.

Merlin glanced towards him at the end of a sentence to which Arthur had not been paying attention, and their gazes met. Arthur should’ve looked away, but he found himself unable to. Merlin’s eyes were like vast oceans, pulling him in, and he found himself lightheaded with want. “Merlin,” he whispered, bending closer…

Merlin jerked back, as if struck, and quickly looked away. The moment disintegrated and Arthur felt a split second of disappointment, but then shook his head. He had no idea what had overcome him. He never let his guard down so easily.

“I am sorry,” Merlin apologized, sounding wretched.

Huh. The idiot made no sense sometimes. He wanted to ask why he was sorry, but Merlin took that moment to busy himself in setting up their food; the conversation dissolved into idle chitchat once more.

The sun was almost setting by the time they put out the fire. Merlin looked at him hesitantly, when he stood up.

“Spit it out Merlin. There is no need to hurt that tiny brain of yours by overthinking.”

Merlin huffed at that, “Are you planning to camp in the forest for the night? Alone?”

Arthur stared at him. What did he think Arthur was? An idiot? “I don’t mean to say you can’t. It’s just… it would be better. You see… it’s not safe…”

Arthur shut him up with a cuff on the head. “Of course I am not camping in the forest. We camped a few miles away. And yes. We. There are five knights with me.”

“Oh.” Merlin deflated, relieved.

“Yes. Oh. I am the Prince of Camelot. Not an idiot.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” So the insolence was back. Arthur didn’t want to admit he had missed it.

“Shut up!”

They walked for a few minutes, and Arthur liked to think Merlin was as reluctant to say goodbye as he was.

Something occurred to him. “Are you going to stay in the forest?”

“Yes,” he replied solemnly. Arthur turned around in shock, about to be the voice of reason when he saw Merlin laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. I am going home after I am done escorting your fancy ass to safety.”

“Where’s your home?” He made small talk, as they neared the edge of the woods. By now, Arthur could already feel the trees becoming less dense, the air becoming fresher. He could’ve easily told Merlin to go his way, but he lingered, slowing his pace.

“Ealdor.”

Night was falling by the time they were out of the forest. Arthur looked at Merlin one last time, saying goodbye.

“Don’t come here again, Arthur,” Merlin cautioned. It sounded too sad to be a warning. Arthur could not decide what to make of it.

“See you later, Merlin.” Arthur said instead, gladdened by the frustrated chuckle Merlin let out in reply.

 

A few days later, at practice, something gnawed at the back of Arthur’s mind. He couldn’t exactly put his finger on it but something was not right. He looked at the knights, searching their faces and it clicked.

“Is Owain sick? I haven’t seen him in a few days.”

Geraint looked at him in confusion and the other knights mimicked him. Hesitantly, he turned towards the Prince and asked, “Who is Owain, Sire?”

Arthur thought about it. The name sounded familiar, the image of a black haired, bright eyed, young man appeared in his head, but he couldn’t place where he had seen it.

He shook his head, dislodging the image. Must be a leftover from some dream.

“Never mind. Let’s get on with the practice.”

 


	2. Phase 2: Crescent.

Arthur had messed up.

His trainers had always told him never to underestimate nature, never to underestimate the power of a creature that was hungry, but pride had made him reckless, made him cocky. So when he encountered a large grey wolf, instead of backing away like he should’ve, he thought he would do everyone a favour and kill it. It would make the woods safer for passersby, and its hide would look beautiful as a rug on his chamber floor.

Only, a wolf was considered a top predator for a reason. Before he knew it, the tables were turned and Arthur was the one being hunted instead. And he could never hope to match the animal in speed.

A branch in his path tipped the scales and he fell, turning around at the last moment so he could at least face his death. The wolf, knowing it had won, slowed down and stalked closer. Arthur tried to swish his sword and was rewarded by claws digging into his thigh, making him scream. He gave up, staring into the face of imminent death, and wondered if the knights would even be able to find a dead body to bury.

“ _Oferswing!”_

Braced for a fatal bite, he was left stunned when the body of the wolf flew away from him, as if blasted away by a strong force. It took him a few moments to place what had caused it.

Magic.

Damn it. Today really wasn’t his day. He didn’t even have a chance to feel relieved at being rescued from sudden death, because the alternative, being slowly tortured to death, was not a very appealing idea either. He would almost prefer being mauled by a wolf in comparison. Unfortunately, Arthur was in no shape to fight off an abduction attempt, especially not one by a sorcerer. That made it hard to feel grateful. He closed his eyes and sighed, hearing the animal whimper and run away, obviously recognizing that it had lost the fight.

Taking a large gulp of air, he opened his eyes to look at the threat, maybe spit in its face if it came to that.

He had to blink a few times, to dislodge the image in front of him, but try as he might, it didn’t change. Standing a few feet away, his hand outstretched, slivers of gold barely fading from his blue eyes, and terror etched on his face was none other than Merlin.

It was an impossible sight, and it took Arthur a few moments to realize he was not hallucinating.

Merlin looked scared, his gaze travelling down to where Arthur was injured, and bleeding profusely. He hurried towards him, but Arthur shuffled back on his hands, letting out a cry at the pain that coursed through his leg at the movement.

Merlin froze, something akin to hurt flickering on his face. Arthur felt furious at that expression… how dare he act like he was the one being wronged?

“Stay away from me,” Arthur warned, his voice filled with pain and rage.

Merlin raised both his hands in surrender, stepping away, pretending to be harmless. What other things had he been pretending about all this time?

“Arthur. You are losing too much blood. You need help.”

“I don’t need help from the likes of you,” he spat, trying to press into the gushing wound. The attack had severed a major vessel. Merlin wasn’t wrong, he was bleeding too much, and too fast, and already he could feel himself getting light-headed. Arthur realized, with a chilling certainty, that he wouldn’t be able to make it back to Camelot.

“Oh, for heaven's sake.” Merlin threw his hands up and moved closer, ignoring the warnings, “Stop being a stubborn clotpole for one second. You can’t have me executed if you are dead yourself.”

Arthur tried to move away but his back hit a tree trunk. His legs would not support his weight, so he was helpless. He picked up his sword, noticing how weak his muscles felt, and waved it. Merlin rolled his eyes, the sight was so familiar that Arthur felt a pang of sadness in his chest. He wasn’t sure what hurt more, the gaping wound on his thigh, or Merlin’s betrayal.

_“Flíeh.”_

The sword flew away from his hand, landing away from his reach and Merlin stalked closer. Arthur grit his teeth, feeling powerless, as Merlin bent down and observed his leg. “Stay away, sorcerer.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can keep up your macho façade. I can erase your memories later if that would ease your hurt ego. But for now, stay still and let me look.” Merlin’s words were lighthearted, but there was steel in his voice that brooked no arguments. Arthur knew when he had lost a battle.

“The wound is deep. It’s bleeding too fast. You will die without immediate help,” Merlin narrated unnecessarily.

“I know.” A long experience with battles had made Arthur very good at knowing what constituted fatal injuries.

“I should take you to the elders. They can heal you,” Merlin looked at him, his voice pleading.

“No.” Arthur would rather die than take help from the sorcerers. They were things worse than death and he had heard enough stories to be wise enough to stay away.

“Please, Arthur. I am awful at healing magic.”

Despite the awful situation and imminent death, that confession made Arthur laugh. He blamed the blood loss. “Why am I not surprised?”

Merlin gulped, and then nodded decisively. “Alright. Be a stubborn prat, if that’s what you prefer. But let me say 'I told you so,' in advance.” Then he raised a hand and held it over the ripped trousers, blood gushing out. “This isn’t going to be pleasant,” he apologized, before murmuring “ _Ahlúttre þá séocnes. Þurh-hæle bræd._ ” His eyes glowed gold, and delirious with pain, Arthur found that sight mesmerizing.

He felt a searing heat deep inside his skin, like his very flesh was on fire, and couldn’t suppress the hoarse cry. But the burn soon faded into a warm glow. “What the hell did you do to me?” He barked, wary, and furious at himself for letting someone perform magic on him.

“Bloody typical. You try to help someone and are only thanked with accusations.” Merlin complained, but there was a look of relief in his eyes. He collapsed next to Arthur, looking tired. Arthur could’ve bet there were more circles around his eyes than a few minutes ago.

The angry defiance left his body, something in him accepting that Merlin was not the threat- even if he was, Arthur would be dead within a few hours anyway. There was a warm glow running through his veins, an energy, that felt almost like blood, almost, but not quite. It felt like a lullaby. “What did you do?” He asked again, gentle this time.

“Sent a little tendril of magic into the wound. I told you, I am not good at healing magic, so I just tried to coax your body into healing faster. I managed to do a hasty repair of the main source of bleeding though. A real healer could’ve done a much better job.”

Arthur watched his injured thigh, and fair enough, the spurting of blood had slowed down, almost trickling now. He didn’t want to admit it, but Merlin had just saved his life. He was really living up to his saviour title.

“So you’re a sorcerer.” He asked after enough time passed, Merlin apparently too exhausted to speak another word.

“I have magic,” Merlin answered, as if it didn’t mean the exact same thing.

“You lied to me,” Arthur accused. He realized that it was this fact that was bothering him more, despite everything else.

“I spoke no lies, Arthur. I just didn’t say anything about it.”

“Same thing.”

Merlin did not comment on that.

They did not say anything else for a while, until Arthur couldn’t help himself, morbidly curious. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” Merlin turned towards him.

“Why do you use magic? It’s poisonous. It darkens the hearts of people who use it. It’s evil in its very nature. Why do you choose to use it?” He didn’t understand… Merlin- laughing, idiotic, silly Merlin- how could he… How could he? There must be some kind of explanation.

Merlin looked baffled for a few moments, and then laughed, startled and bitter. “You are serious. You really believe that?”

“It’s the truth.” Arthur tried to not let the doubts in his heart show.

“It’s a bunch of bullshit.” Merlin looked half amused, half offended. “I don’t use magic, Arthur. I am magic. I was born with it. It flows in my veins like blood flows in yours. I used to cause thunderstorms when I cried when I was less than a year old; flowers used to start blooming when I laughed as a toddler. Nobody taught me, nobody made me. I just…am.”

Arthur stiffened in alarm. In his anger, Merlin was showing how powerful he was. In all his life, he had never heard of anyone with powerful enough magic to cause weather changes, and have power to manipulate the cycle of life.

“How can something be born evil? Who gets to decide that?” Merlin looked at him, fiery passion in his gaze barely hiding the pain behind it.

“It can be,” Arthur insisted.

“Perhaps you are right,” Merlin sagged again, deflated. “I am not going to insist I don’t have a blackened core, but magic… magic is beautiful. Magic is also everywhere. To call magic evil is like saying the trees are evil, the sun is. Magic is in the earth under your feet, and the air you breathe. It is the very essence of life.”

Arthur did not answer that for a long moment. He thought he didn’t have anything left to say, feeling the odd sensation of his wound healing, a tingling sensation running in his leg, but then he surprised himself. “So, you’re saying there are good magical creatures?”

“Yes,” Merlin chuckled, wistful. “There are pixies, and centaurs and dragons and griffins. There are spirits and there are the sidhe. There are also unicorns. The world is brimming with magical creatures and humans have closed their eyes to their beauty, in denial of their existence.”

“Oh.” Arthur said, unsettled. “Dragons.”

Merlin laughed. There was an old fond twinkle in his eyes. “Yes. Dragons. They exist. They are old, creatures of powerful magic, and have an annoying habit of talking in riddles.”

“You have met them?”

“Just the one.” Merlin admitted. “A long time ago. He told me of a destiny that I don’t believe in.” Bitterness coloured his words and Arthur knew not to pursue the topic.

They sat there for a while, Arthur too drained to protest when Merlin wrapped his neckerchief around the still oozing wound. “I am afraid it will take a few days to heal. Magic uses your body’s own energy reserves to fix the damage, and I did what I could to boost it, but a non-healer can do only so much.”

Arthur didn’t answer, uncomfortable as he was with getting magical help, but Merlin didn’t seem to mind. He started a fire with a whispered, _‘forbearnan_ ’ and Arthur flinched.

“What are you planning to do with me?” He asked eventually, dreading the answer. Sure, he believed Merlin had saved him from dying, but that couldn’t be all. A weakened prince was a hazard for the entire Kingdom. He could only guess what Uther would do to find him.

“Well right now, my best plan is to stop you from dying. Then, I will probably try and lead the guards here,” Merlin teased. His efforts for bringing levity to the situation were halfhearted, but at least he was trying. Arthur remained tense, waiting.

“Just sleep, Arthur,” Merlin said, exhausted. “You will feel better later.”

Arthur felt the tug of darkness, welcoming and safe, but he resisted it. He was afraid. “Will you be here when I wake up?” He found himself asking, and oh.

_Idiot_.

Merlin had lied to him. Merlin was a sorcerer with powers Arthur could not even begin to fathom. And what scared Arthur more than anything was the thought that he might not see him again.

Merlin smiled sadly, “Sleep.” It sounded like a goodbye. Arthur saw his eyes shine with magic once more as he whispered, “ _Swefn_.”

Unable to stay awake any longer, he let the darkness take over, drifting off. Like a fool, he grasped Merlin's hand, and fell asleep to the reassuring squeeze of his fingers.

When he woke up, he was disoriented for a moment, the sharp pain in his leg a reminder of everything that had taken place. Arthur sighed. So it hadn’t been a dream after all; he really had been attacked… and saved by Merlin.

Merlin, who was nowhere to be found. The Sun had already set, their crackling fire the only source of light. The trees were too thick to let any moonlight in. Like this, he would become dinner to any wild animal. Before he could get more worried and try to stand, he heard footsteps.

“My Lord.” Sir Bedivere came running towards him, Geraint and Ethan following behind him. “Are you alright? What happened? We were so worried.”

“How did you find me?” He asked, as two of the knights helped him stand up. Even supported, it felt great to stand on his feet again. He had thought he would never feel it again. The wrapped scarf around his leg served as a reminder that it would not have been possible without Merlin’s magic still running through his veins.

He had thought he would despise it. But it felt oddly comforting.

“We heard your voice. Weren’t you calling for us?” Ethan asked, confused, and Arthur suddenly understood. Merlin had said he would make sure the knights found him, and apparently, he kept his promises.

“I was. I wasn’t sure if any of you would be around,” Arthur lied, and let the knights help him out of the forest.

Magic, or no magic. He would be glad to let Gaius look at his wound.

“Gaius?” Arthur asked, lying on a bed in the infirmary, the physician hovering by his side. He had arrived in Camelot a few hours ago, and the worst of the wound had healed by then. Unwilling to explain the reason for his quick recovery, he told everyone it was only a graze. It almost looked like one by then. The knights bought his story. Gaius, however, stared at his torn cloth and the amount of blood soaked into it, and wore a look of understanding on his face that Arthur didn’t want to examine too deeply.

Gaius had been one of those people who practiced magic before Uther banned it. He knew what it looked like.

He made Arthur lie down and proceeded to clean the wound, covering it in salve without a question. The Prince valued his discretion, and his lack of prying. He wasn’t up for much explaining at the moment.

“Yes, Sire.” He was by Arthur's side in a moment, looking concerned. “Is everything alright?”

Arthur nodded, and cleared his throat. He realized it was parched so he motioned towards the jug of water with his hand. Gaius obliged his request. After a few sips, Arthur put away the glass and looked at Gaius’s face searchingly, looking for an answer to a question he hadn’t formulated yet.

“Is something on your mind, Arthur?” The physician was one of the few people in Camelot who still called him by his name. There was bound to be some intimacy when he had basically raised the Prince as his own son. Arthur trusted him with his life, which was why he was the only one he could ask.

“What is magic like?” He surprised himself with the question.

“My Lord?”

“You used to practice it, didn’t you? What did it feel like?”

Gaius searched his face for a few moments before nodding. “It felt very much like making potions does to me. It’s a skill. Something to bend to your will. But… purer. It felt like the very nature itself.” There was a wistfulness in his voice that made Arthur’s heart ache. Merlin had sounded the same way when he talked about magic.

“But you weren’t born with it? You learned to use it.”

“That is correct.”

“Are there…” He trailed off, not knowing how to phrase it properly. “But there are some people who are born with it… right?”

“Yes,” Gaius said, and Arthur sighed in relief. Despite everything else, at least Merlin hadn’t been lying about this. The fact seemed important to him for some reason. “There are some men who were born with magic in their blood. It’s been said to be like any other muscle to them, which gets stronger with use. But you can’t erase magic from them even if they never use it.”

“But you can live without using it.”

“And you can live without using a sword,” Gaius reprimanded, “Doesn’t mean you should be made to. Anyway, not everything can live without it.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are more creatures in this world than you can imagine, Sire. There are tomes upon tomes of wisdom on the creatures of legends. Of myths. Magic flows in the very fabric of universe.”

“Oh,” Arthur said. He had never thought about that. “But Father... he has proof. We have seen it countless times… magic is evil.”

“Is anything really ever evil?” Gaius asked. “Everything has reasons for the things they do, the choices they make. Sometimes it's hunger. Sometimes it's fear. But calling magic evil is a lot like calling swords evil.”

“There was a war!” Arthur protested.

“Yes. There was. We all used the weapons we had at our disposal. We won, but Arthur, we shouldn’t forget that both sides suffered. Also, history is written by the victorious side… remember?”

Arthur got quiet. He had never thought about the situation like that. It made sense. He had always heard their side of the story… but how did the war, the purge, look like from the other- the sorcerers’ side? They must look like monsters to them.

“Arthur?” Gaius called tentatively, pulling him out of his musings.

“Hmm?”

“I would appreciate it, if you didn’t tell your father about this conversation.”

Gaius didn’t need to elaborate. His words could easily be labelled an act of treason. “Of course.” Arthur promised, and Gaius sighed in relief.

“Would you like to be left alone and get some rest?” Gaius asked after a while, recognizing his need to be quiet.

He nodded gratefully, and Gaius left the chambers, leaving him alone to his troubling thoughts. Arthur played with the red scarf, blood stained, and remembered the trembling fingers tying it around his wound. All he had seen during this incident from Merlin was gentleness and mercy and compassion. He could not wrap his head around the knowledge that had been drilled inside his head all his life.

Magic was evil.

Merlin was magic.

And Merlin was most definitely not evil.

There was something missing in the big picture.

It took Arthur a week to recover completely. He started walking around on the third day, ignoring the protests from Gaius. He refused to let Gaius look at his wound on the fourth day, saying, “I know how to change bandages, Gaius. I am not a complete imbecile.” The truth was, he didn’t want the physician to see the pink, almost healed scar. He refrained from strenuous activities for a few more days just to be safe, but a week after returning from the forest, he put on his armour and walked into the training area. In his absence, Sir Bedivere had taken over directing the training activities, as per his instructions. They didn’t notice his presence for a few minutes, so Arthur had the rare opportunity to observe how they fought when they weren’t trying to impress their Prince.

Well, he was impressed.

They were agile, swift, and quick thinkers. It was quite refreshing to see them dance around each other, like panthers, looking for an opening. Arthur decided at that moment that he would let them train with each other a lot more… it was enlightening, and refreshing, to watch the fight with the eyes of a spectator, instead of his usual position as an opponent.

Sir Ethan won, with a clever change of sword hands and taking Sir Bedivere unawares. As the knights caught their breath, Arthur clapped appreciatively.

“Nice work,” he praised, and saw Ethan duck his head shyly. “Now let’s see how you fare against me.”

Not holding a sword for a week slowed his reflexes, but he was also paying attention. The fight lasted longer than it usually did, and Arthur enjoyed the burn in his muscles, the adrenaline running in his veins. The restlessness caused by staying indoors faded as the thrill of a battle- even if staged and relatively safe- took over.

After that… he tried to forget about Merlin, and magic, and the forest altogether. The various duties of a Prince were time-consuming, and taxing. A few days later, they heard news of unrest from the outlying villages bordering Cenred’s Kingdom. Arthur and a few knights went to investigate, and settle disputes. Solving a water shortage in the outskirts of Camelot took a lot of energy and time, and Arthur felt selfishly grateful for it all. It gave him a good reason to be on his feet. He dreaded the calm days, because they gave him too much time to think.

A sorcerer was found in town a few weeks later. He said he was just trying to heal his ailing mother, but magic was a crime punishable by death. Uther’s law did not have any exceptions. So on midday, he was dragged to the guillotine and beheaded.

“This reign of terror will end one day, Uther,” the man warned, or maybe he cursed. “And that day, my spirit will rejoice. Emrys is coming.”

No matter how much he wanted not to, Arthur made himself look. Made himself stand witness. As if sensing his eyes, the young man looked back at him as the blade came down. There was a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, his eyes shining, and for a moment, Arthur saw someone else in the bonds, someone with blue eyes instead of brown, about to die. Instinctively, he stood up, his hand outstretched, the order to stop on the tip of his tongue. But the blade came down with a sickening squelch, and Arthur stood frozen where he was. From the corner of his eye, he watched the window in Morgana’s chamber slam shut.

The crowd watched. None of them cheered, none of them protested, but there was anger in their eyes, and pain. Arthur could hear someone lamenting, the sound of distant wailing… old, and frail. He sent Gaius to look after the man’s mother later in the evening.

“She’s dying, my Lord,” he reported later. “A disease that does not have a cure. And now, she has no will to live either.”

“Can magic have cure her?”

“Maybe.” Gaius shrugged. “I am afraid we will never know.”

Arthur nodded. The defiance in the man’s gaze burned into his mind, reminding him of someone else. He wondered why the man didn’t fight harder. He could’ve broken out of his bonds, could’ve made a run for it. But Gaius had once explained to Arthur that all the books on magic were burnt in the purge, and nobody could learn the ways of the magic any longer. Uther had found that thought comforting. Arthur didn’t want to admit how terrifying that thought was to him now.

He was glad Merlin had natural magic. He would not let himself be killed like that.

Since when had Arthur started thinking of ways to protect a man he barely knew? He had no idea.

He was sitting in his chambers one day when there was a knock. Expecting it to be a maid, he told them to go away, an ache building inside his head. He would have restless dreams that night, he knew it.

“It’s me, Arthur,” Morgana called through the door..

“Come in.”

She stepped inside, hesitating. It was rare to find her looking anything but sure and confident. Arthur made to stand up, concerned, but she waved her hand, pacing.

“What is wrong, Morgana?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed, shaking her head.

Arthur waited for her to explain, and then let out an exhausted sigh, rubbing his forehead. “Why are you here?”

“I am worried for you.” Her eyes met his for a small moment and then flitted away.

Arthur laughed. “I am perfectly alright.”

“Oh please, don’t kid yourself,” she snapped. “Any idiot can see you aren’t doing very well. You are pale and tired and distracted.”

Arthur closed his mouth and smothered his protest. She was right after all.

“Sorry.”

Morgana came closer, and ran her fingers through his hair. He tried not to melt into the touch. “You are a mess, dear brother.”

He didn’t argue. He was. He had been trying to hide it, hide the conflict in his heart, but he had never been very good at lying to his sister.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, her fingers moving rhythmically, soothing. He shook his head.

“It’s about the forest, isn’t it?”

Arthur gaped at her in shock. “How do you know?”

“I have been having strange dreams.”

Dreams. Arthur wanted to talk about the dreams he had been having too. About how unsettling they were, and how impossible to avoid, or forget. But his status required him to not be swayed by such fanciful things, so he just scoffed.

“Don’t be ridiculous Morgana. They are just nightmares.”

“They don’t feel like it.” She shook her head, and Arthur could sympathize. “I see both beauty and terrifying sorrow there. There’s a forest, and there’s you, and at times there are other people- other things- as well. Sometimes, you are lost, and other days, you are found. I don’t know what they mean… but I think maybe you should go there again. It feels like the forest is calling you.”

He stared at her. Arthur had been actively resisting any thought of going back to the forest, of meeting Merlin. He sometimes felt a strange draw, when he was out riding. The winds seemed to want to steer him the other way, towards the Brechfa’s forest. Morgana was right, it was calling him. But Arthur resisted the call, played deaf to it. He wasn’t sure what awaited him back there. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Can we talk about something else?” The thoughts were increasing the headache.

“Alright,” she accepted his evasion. “Let me massage your head.”

It was not a question, but he wouldn’t have refused the offer anyway. Her fingers in his hair felt like magic, relieving the persistent pressure. She stood behind him, her fingers moving more firmly, and he groaned in relief.

She talked about meaningless things, about her maid Gwen, and her antics, about the disasters happening in the court, and about the new young knights who had taken up the mantle of wooing her this time. Arthur snorted. He was still waiting for someone to court her by challenging her to a swordfight- that tactic would fare far better than offering her flowers would. His sister was a fighter at heart, and a much better swordsman than half the knights in the kingdom. Nobody seemed to realize it though.

There was a delegation from another Kingdom staying at Camelot these days. The bards in it sang lovely tales, and Morgana narrated them to him. He had been too distracted to pay attention, but her massage had lulled him almost into a trance.

“Okay now, bed!” She laughed, shoving him, and he grumbled as he face-planted into the sheets, sleep feeling remarkably closer than it had before.

Morgana turned off the candles, and lingered in the doorway for a moment. He squinted at her, and had to strain to hear her next few words. They weren’t meant for his ears.

“Be careful, Arthur.”

“He hasn’t returned?” Freya flopped on the ground beside him, as he sat cross-legged, meditating.

Merlin didn’t open his eyes, but a smile crawled onto his lips when he felt the comforting magenta tones of his friend, bringing some much needed colour to the world around him. He was grateful for her companionship, her warm heart. He tried to ignore the aura of exhaustion, of frailty, surrounding her, colouring her magic, and concentrated on the kindness radiating from her that nothing could ever really conquer.

He didn’t reply for a few moments, making Freya part of his meditation, letting himself feel the inhales and exhales of the entire forest and finding a calm in it. He had no idea how long he had been meditating. There was not a whole lot to do, when you were not allowed to leave the forest, so Merlin had learned to drown himself in the old magic.

If, on the days he felt strong enough, he let his magic move further, into the surrounding villages, hearing the tales of old people and the laughter of the children, no one would know. Only the High Priestess had enough power to detect him when he was trying to hide, and he had made sure she was never aware of his strength. There was safety in anonymity.

He refused to admit, even to himself, that these days he was meditating longer, wishing he could reach further, to catch a glimpse of sun streaked hair, hear a whisper of that cocky voice. Just to look at the Prince one more time.

Merlin had almost forgotten about the company, when he felt a ball of soft mud hit him on his face. His eyes snapped open and he looked at Freya in shock. She was giggling, bending over and clutching her stomach.

“Yes. This is hilarious,” Merlin wiped the dirt off his face, helplessly grinning with Freya’s mirth. Laughter was such a sweet sound, he could never bring himself to resent it. Not when it was such a rare occurrence.

“You deserved it… for not paying attention to me.” She pouted.

Merlin sighed, and summoned back his wayward magic, letting go of his hold on nature. He focused all his attention on Freya, shifting and folding his arms. “Alright. I am listening now. What did you want to say?”

“I was just wondering… he hasn’t come back yet, has he?” Her gaze was sharp, and Merlin had to turn away. She had always been able to read him like a book.

“Who?” He desperately tried to fake nonchalance.

“Pretense never suited you, Merlin. You know who I mean. Your… prat.” Merlin couldn’t help the bark of laughter at that. The way Freya rolled the word on her tongue and scrunched up her face was hilarious.

“He is not mine, Freya.”

“If you say so. You do always call him Prat though. He hasn’t been back?” She asked again, not falling for the deflection tactic. Sometimes he despised how intelligent she was.

“You know he hasn’t.” Merlin tried to hide the hurt in his voice, but not very successfully if the expression on his friend’s face was anything to go by.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” He looked at her in confusion, until she explained: “It means he hasn’t decided to execute you, after all.”

Merlin smiled ruefully. She did have a point. He nodded, and tried to convince himself that he preferred it this way. Indifference was definitely preferable over hatred… or was it?

“It also keeps him safe from her,” she added as an afterthought- and that… that he wholeheartedly agreed with. Merlin was surprised to feel worry radiate from her though. He had no idea she had come to care for the prince without even meeting him.

Sensing some of his surprise, she cocked her head to one side and told him, as if chastising a child, “He means something to you. So he means something to me.”

Merlin leaned forward and hugged her, helplessly. She patted his back and laughed, “Yes, Merlin, I know. I love you too.”

He pulled back and looked at her, properly looked, for the first time since she sat beside him and jerked back slightly.

“Freya,” his voice was horrified. How had he not noticed? She had always been pale, but now her skin was peeling, her dark hair greying. Her eyes were hazy, with bags under them, the exhaustion and pain in them obvious to anyone who looked. If she was human, Merlin would be surprised at the fact that she was still alive. As it was, she still lived… but barely.

“I am fine, Merlin, don’t worry.” She waved her hand, trying to lighten the situation.

“Why? Nim-”

She jerked back, so he amended, not wanting to upset her, not when he was afraid that she would break apart at any moment. “She hunted last week.”

“You’ve stolen the Prince away from her, and she can’t hurt you, so…” She shrugged her shoulders, “this is a warning… of a sort”

His face twisted, in gut-wrenching anger, and stomach-curdling guilt. Freya must’ve felt his horror, even weak as she was, because she placed a gentle hand on his arm.

“It’s not your fault.”

Merlin laughed bitterly, making her flinch. “It is.”

Freya shook her head vehemently. “It’s not. We all know how the High Priestess is. How spiteful she can get.”

Merlin looked towards the core of the forest, rage bubbling inside him. If only he was strong enough… but he knew better. The magic had made its choice long ago, and you could not fight with nature itself, you could not scream at it that it chose wrong.

He closed his eyes in resignation, and spread his magic into the soil again, this time seeking more power, more energy. The forest, as always, willingly gave it to him, and he let it course through his veins and concentrate on his palm, glowing bright green.

Freya jerked back. “I can’t, Merlin. It’s not right… it’s not fair.”

Merlin almost laughed again at the words. “Look around you, Freya. Nothing is fair. We do the best we can. Let me do the best I can.” His voice cracked, but he looked at his friend earnestly. “Please.”

She sighed, knowing it was fruitless to resist. “You really shouldn’t give so much of yourself away,” she protested lightly, and placed her palm on his glowing one. He wanted to explain that he wasn’t sacrificing anything, but that was something he wasn’t allowed to divulge. His mother’s warnings rang in his ears, loud and clear, his father’s fate etched into his memory. He had learned the importance of secrecy at an early age.

Merlin watched this time, watched her drink in the essence that was basically him, feel it leave his core, but didn’t miss it in the slightest, instead he watched her skin becoming fresher, the grey of her hair turning black right in front of his eyes.

He was so captivated by her healing, that he almost didn’t notice the familiar tingle of another presence at the edge of his perception. He only felt it when he felt his magic singing, happy to feel the vivacious energy of the man again.

Freya must’ve felt the change in the taste of his magic too, because she opened her eyes and looked at him curiously. Relief at seeing her healthier again, and the surprise at being granted what he had secretly been hoping for, punched a laugh out of his chest- a real one. Freya let go of his hand and smiled.

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Merlin didn’t even try to contain his happiness, “Speak of the devil…”

“I would hardly call him the devil now,” she teased, sharing his joy.

“You’re right… he’s far too stupid to be the devil.” The initial relief at feeling his presence faded fast, leaving behind a helpless uncertainty…

“Why is he here?” Freya voiced the question he didn’t want to think about.

Merlin shook his head, and then closed his eyes to expand his perception again. He felt it, red as the cloak he wore, golden like the hair on his head, the shining bright presence of the Prince. He was alone, but Merlin could also feel distant echoes of other knights, pale in comparison to the sheer brilliance of Arthur. He saw him raise a bow and take aim, and scoffed.

“Hunting.” He told Freya. She pushed at him, nudging him to go.

Merlin wanted to resist it. He didn’t know how he would face the look of fear and distrust on the man’s face again, or worse, cold indifference. But he could also feel the Priestess’s magic becoming aware, taking note, and he knew that if he didn’t go… she would.

He wondered if he should let her. It surely would make it easier, but then he could feel Arthur’s delighted laughter, colouring the entire forest’s air with a feeling of mirth, and decided he couldn’t do that. No matter how much it would cost him later, he couldn’t help hoarding every moment, knowing it was worth it.

Nodding at Freya, he started walking towards where he could feel his magic tugging. Unconsciously, he reached out to see what the target was this time, and his feet froze in shock.

Oh no.

He broke into a run, sending pulses of his magic towards the prey, urging it to run, but it just absorbed them, calm and trusting… far too trusting.

That was the problem with Unicorns. Creatures of pure magic were pure of heart as well, loving and spreading love. They were naïve and unafraid, and so very vulnerable. It had been a while since Merlin last saw a Unicorn, the land’s magic being dry enough not to attract them anymore. But here was one, a beautiful creature, and Arthur was about to shoot it.

He felt Arthur lift his crossbow and draw an arrow right as he ran into the clearing. “Arthur. No. Stop.” He shouted, breathless and anxious.

It was too late.

He had already released the arrow, and the Unicorn just stood there, a picture of utter tranquility. Merlin responded without a conscious thought.

“ _ætstandan_.”

He extended his hand, and the arrow faltered, before stopping midair. Merlin stared at it, all of his magic concentrated on it, relief making his knees weak. He let it go, and watched it clatter on the ground, harmless.

He barely felt Arthur stomp towards him, righteous indignation obvious in his every step, and Merlin would’ve been able to feel it even if he couldn’t taste it in his aura.

“What the hell do you think you are doing, Merlin?”

Merlin turned and glared. He was far too furious right now, adrenaline still thrumming through his veins, to listen to Arthur’s stupidity. Arthur’s feet froze at the expression on his face, staring.

Oh. Merlin's eyes were probably still glowing, the magic too unstable to settle back into his core yet, and he deliberately tried to reign it in. He tried not to acknowledge the pang of hurt in his heart at the look of fear in Arthur’s gaze.

“What the hell do you think _you_ were doing, Arthur?” He bit back.

“Hunting. Like I am supposed to do. Now, if you would get out of my way…” He drew his sword, striding past Merlin towards the unicorn. Merlin didn’t even think before muttering “ _Ecg misse!_ ” and jerking the weapon out of the Prince’s hand.

Arthur turned towards him, shock written on his face and rage burning in his eyes. “Are you insane?”

“Are you? Do you know what you were about to do… what you could’ve caused.”

“What is wrong with you?”

Merlin stalked towards him, “What is wrong with me? I am trying to save you and your precious kingdom from your stupidity… that’s what’s wrong with me.”

“Nonsense. It’s a magical creature… The King would be pleased to receive its horn as a gift.”

“Yes, it’s a creature of magic, Arthur. And killing it would curse the entire land…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin.” Arthur scoffed and suddenly, Merlin had had enough.

He covered the distance between then, invaded Arthur’s personal space and grabbed his hand, ignoring the flare of his magic at the touch and Arthur’s gasp. He pulled Arthur the rest of the few steps towards the unicorn and then placed his hand on its back.

“Feel it. Even someone as deaf to the sound of magic must be able to feel _this_.” He pressed his own hand on top of Arthur’s so he couldn’t pull away… wanting him to understand. There were no words to describe it, no words that could explain. This was the best he could do.

Arthur fell quiet, and Merlin realized he was still touching Arthur. He could feel his magic pulsing where their skin was touching, joyous. It felt so good, to be touching something so full of vitality, but Merlin knew he was treading dangerous waters and made himself pull away, moving his fingers to stroke the Unicorn’s skin instead, petting it gently.

After he felt himself calm down, helped by the tranquil magic that was the essence of a creature like the one he was touching, he chanced a look at Arthur. He didn’t know what he was expecting, too caught up in the turmoil of the last few moments, but was surprised at the look of utter shock, and something like reverence, in Arthur’s gaze. There were tears shining in his blue eyes, and as Merlin watched, one wayward tear broke through the barrier of Arthur’s lashes, running down his cheek. Arthur didn’t seem to have noticed.

He could sympathize. Merlin could feel the magic under his fingers, as old as the very fabric of the universe, maybe even older. While Merlin had been able to feel magic since the day he was born, Arthur had never felt that, had closed all his senses off to anything more than what he could see with his human vision. Now, feeling it for the first time, must be overwhelming. He stared at Arthur, watching him take it in, mesmerized by the sight.

Tentatively, he reached out with his magic- he was invading Arthur’s privacy, he knew, but he was so curious. He was suddenly faced with so many contrasting emotions: joy and fear; sheer disbelief and a delighted curiosity; horror at what he almost did, relief at being thwarted and above all else… awe. So much awe.

Merlin pulled back, finding the moment immensely personal, and giving Arthur the space to process it. There was no better way to expose someone to magic than with something as pure as Unicorns- there was little else that was unaffected by the poison running in the forest’s veins- and he was secretly glad for the opportunity. After a long time, Arthur turned his gaze towards him, their eyes meeting. Merlin could see the vulnerability in the gaze- his whole world view shattering- and he smiled. If Arthur could feel it, could accept it, he was a better man than Merlin had expected, or hoped.

“Do you understand now?” He whispered, hushed.

Arthur swallowed audibly, not looking away, and nodded. Then, he glanced furtively at where their hands were still gently caressing the unicorn, and inched his closer to Merlin’s, until they were touching again, and Merlin felt what Arthur couldn’t say.

The well of gratitude he felt towards Merlin, for stopping him from killing this animal; relief, that Merlin was okay, and something more… an aching longing that Merlin didn’t want to analyze. They stared into each other’s eyes again, transfixed, and Merlin found himself drowning, swaying, wanting to feel more than just the press of their fingers together… wanting to consume Arthur’s very soul.

The unicorn moved at that moment, walking away, dislodging their joined hands, and breaking the connection. Merlin stepped back, his eyes lowered, trying to block the waves of disappointment coming from Arthur. He knew better. He should not allow his magic to take over like that… he had seen what it could do. He steeled himself, compartmentalizing his emotions, until he felt stable enough to look at Arthur again without losing control.

Then, he plastered his cheekiest grin, and looked up. “So… did you miss me?” and laughed when Arthur gaped for a few moments before scoffing audibly.


	3. Phase 3: Quarter.

“Border patrol?” Uther asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“Yes, Father.” Arthur bowed his head. “News of unrest from the east of the Kingdom has been circulating. It is our duty to investigate.”

“You only came back last week, Arthur. The city needs its Prince as well.”

Arthur sighed. He had tried not to raise his hopes too much, and yet, he felt crushed. Yes, he saw Merlin a week ago, but a week was long enough. “Yes, Father,” he nodded, stepping back.

“Wait,” the King raised his hand, and Arthur looked up, hope rekindled. “There will be a delegation coming from Mercia tomorrow. They plan to stay for three days. Your presence here is necessary during their stay.” Arthur almost groaned. He hated the formal dinners and festivities. “After that,” Uther continued, and Arthur’s ears perked up. “After that, you can go on your patrol duty.”

Uther gave Arthur a curious look. He could probably tell his son was hiding something, but couldn’t figure out what it was. If he ever came to know how his son escaped from the city once every month- more if he could get away with it- to meet with a sorcerer, Arthur didn’t know how his father would react.

Arthur nodded, and backed away from the Counsel Room, letting the doors slam shut behind him. One more week. Another week of false courtesies and fake smiles, and then he could go to the forest of Brechfa again, and let Merlin open his mind to the secrets of the universe, and open his heart, with his gullible smiles and entirely too expressive eyes. He could do it, survive it, because the reward at the end of it was so very sweet.

A smile lingered on his lips as he made his way to his chambers.

“Father is getting suspicious about where I wander off to every few weeks,” Arthur sighed, as he sat down next to Merlin on the plain ground.

Merlin was lying on his back, his eyes closed, looking like he was sleeping. But Arthur could see the small smile on his lips. There was also the fact that he had followed a rabbit that had acted as his guide all the way to Merlin, the whole time feeling like he was some sort of a princess in a fairy tale. Merlin was definitely awake.

“Can we stop with the whole, talking sentient animal thing though? It’s sort of creepy. If you can tell when I am about to arrive, maybe you can wait for me at the forest edge.”

He poked Merlin in his ribs, making him crack open one eye and grin, “I live to creep you out, Arthur. I can’t shirk my life’s purpose… anyway, this is more fun.”

Arthur laughed, flopping down to lie next to Merlin on the cool earth. They lay quietly on their backs like that for a while, Merlin with his eyes closed, and Arthur staring at the leaves hiding the sky, the light barely filtering in. Eventually he turned, and started observing the man lying beside him.

There was something remarkably non-human about him. Something about the cut of his jaw, the high cheekbones, the way his ears were pointed… it reminded Arthur of childhood and hearing stories about faeries from his nannies while hiding from his father, because Uther did not like the mention of even playful magic. Arthur considered asking him about it, but it felt too personal, and he wasn’t sure if he would get an answer. Instead, he stared, his fingers itching to trace Merlin’s features, his lips aching to press kisses to it.

The attraction he felt towards the sorcerer was becoming a problem. It grew every day, making him yearn for more than what they had, more of everything, greedy, but he had been taught self-denial since the day he was born. He could handle it, if it meant spending more time in the man’s company.

Arthur curled his fingers in a fist and stared above again. A bird let out a mating call as it flew above them. He was suddenly curious.

“So you can control animals, then?”

Merlin huffed out a half laugh, “You can’t control living things, Arthur.”

“I distinctly remember a bunny leading me to you. What do you call that?”

Merlin opened his eyes and looked at him finally. “You can only ask… politely.”

“Politely?” Arthur raised an eyebrow- in a way he had learned from Gaius. Merlin wouldn’t know what asking politely meant if it bit him in the ass.

Merlin laughed at his skepticism. “Well… convincingly then.”

“How?” Arthur asked. He was curious about magic- only Merlin’s magic, if he was honest about this- always thirsting for more information.

“You just… give them a little push. Lure them in with magic, and ask them nicely. I told you, magic is in the fabric of universe. Most creatures cannot resist the pull.”

Arthur felt slightly unsettled by the intensity in Merlin’s eyes, or maybe it was something about his words.

“So you could… compel people?”

Something guarded settled on Merlin’s face and he looked away, staring at the sky. “Not many creatures have enough power to influence other beings, and even so, small animals are easy targets. They are trusting, and intimately attuned to the forest’s magic, and mine. They know it’s safe.”

Arthur realized quickly that Merlin didn’t want to talk about it. He understood why. A few months ago Arthur had despised magic, and Merlin probably didn’t want to give him more reason to fear it. He wished he could show Merlin he wasn’t afraid… he was fascinated.

“Can you show me?”

Merlin turned towards him, chuckling again. “You know you have a problem, right? What would your father say, if he knew how much of a magic fan you’ve become?”

Arthur had thought about that, many times, with growing levels of dread. He had wondered if the King would execute his own son to make a statement. Knowing Uther, that was definitely a possibility and he preferred not to linger on that image. “My father will never know.” He sounded like he was convincing himself, and maybe he was.

“He better not. I like my head on my shoulders, thank you very much.” Merlin joked, but Arthur had seen far too many beheadings to find that amusing.

He probably looked troubled, because Merlin turned to lie on his side and caressed Arthur’s face, his touch gentle and so very wanted. Arthur closed his eyes and refrained from pushing into the touch, asking for more. “Hey. I was only kidding,” Merlin apologized, and Arthur nodded, swallowing thickly.

“So… what would you like?” Merlin was asking about the show of magic, but Arthur’s heart thumped. It sounded so intimate when whispered from just a few inches away.

“Anything,” Arthur answered, his voice hoarse.

He stared at Merlin as he smiled, his eyes flickering gold. Arthur would never stop being awed by the colour, and the power it held. A moment later, a bird landed on Arthur's head, startling him.

Arthur sat bolt upright, and threw an annoyed look at Merlin who was cackling on the ground, clutching his stomach, and felt too warm with affection to be angry anymore.

“But you just got back last week?” Uther raised his eyebrows when he finished speaking.

“The needs of the people of Camelot must always come first, Father. There has been news of attacks by a winged beast from the northern borders.”

“What kind of beast?” Uther asked, his interest piqued.

“We can’t know for sure, but from the accounts, it seems magical in nature.” Arthur knew his father’s Achilles’ heel, and he should have been concerned about how the lies didn’t weigh on his conscience anymore.

“Then we must vanquish it,” Uther decreed, and Arthur barely managed to hide his smile.

“I will leave at first light.” He bowed, leaving the hall.

As he went out the door, he almost crashed into Morgana, his feet freezing at the last moment. Morgana looked at his face and grinned.

“Arthur,” she said, falsely sweet. Uh-oh. That tone never bode well.

“Morgana.” He tried to duck away but she stepped in his path.

“I see you aren’t looking where you’re going,” she started. Arthur tried to interrupt but she spoke over him. “But then, you haven’t been present here for a while now. Your head’s in the clouds, brother.”

“I am sorry,” Arthur bit out, hoping to avoid more ribbing.

“Or maybe not clouds…” She looked between him and the throne room door, something clicking in her mind. “You’re going on an away mission again, aren’t you?”

Her smile was completely devious. Arthur pushed past her. “Yes. I have a duty to the people, and if you would get out of my way I will go and prepare for the journey.”

He heard her laugh from behind him. “I hope she is pretty, Arthur.”

Arthur had to bite his lip as he walked away, because the answer was yes. Yes, he was.

Sophia splashed water on her face from the lake, the cold water chasing away some of the damp griminess that lingered on her skin these days, but it never really went away, neither did the smell of decay. She stared at her reflection in the water, torturing herself. She remembered what it was like to look young and beautiful- the face that looked back at her was nothing like that. It was pale, the circles under her eyes were unsightly, her skin cracked.

She had gone to the High Priestess after the last hunt, begging for more of the essence, wanting to feel alive again. She had promised to do anything… anything it took. She had just laughed cruelly, and asked for something she couldn’t give.

Nobody could fight Merlin.

She felt her magic flare at the thought of Merlin- his strength untouched by their decline. The old magic had always been biased, giving certain members more power than the others, but she never could understand why it chose him, when it could’ve chosen her. There were whispers of him being something more, _Emrys_ , but she wouldn’t believe that. Her magic raged, the usually subtle yellow became a dark sickly ochre, whenever someone mentioned it while she was nearby, and they quieted down when they felt it. She wanted to scream because they had it wrong. If the legends were true, she was obviously the better choice. She was more beautiful, more loyal, and surely more intelligent.

Although it didn’t take much to be wiser than that foolish person, being soft on a mere human.

She hated this. She hated feeling so weak. And even if it was impossible, she would do whatever was necessary to win back the Priestess’s favour. Her father would’ve wanted it for her. She shied away from what he would’ve thought if he ever saw her like that- so pathetic- after everything he sacrificed for her. She was meant for more than rotting away in the forest.

The old gods were probably smiling at her at the moment because just when she steeled her resolve, she felt the whisper of anticipation run through the forest. Once, she could feel to the very tips of every leaf and know things before they happened. Now, she was crippled, and could only hear the barest whisper of something new. But this wasn’t new anymore. This was familiar by now. She knew the forest reacted this way because Merlin was reacting this way.

And Merlin only reacted this way because of one thing: the Prince was here.

It also meant Merlin had not met him yet. She had the window that she had been waiting for. Recklessly, she pulled at her magic reserves, dipping into her core. She needed her glamour for this, even if it weakened her power.

She strode off, her feet carrying her at a brisk pace, the endless well of vitality pulling her towards it. She was bitterly envious of it. He was only _human_ … how dare he!

Soon, she stepped into his path, startling him. He smiled, and Sophia had to reign in the urge to scratch it off his face. Sophia let her lips tilt up into a smile, forcing more glamour to cover her, and could feel the effects instantly.

The guarded look on the Prince’s face faded, and she could feel his cautiousness giving way to curiosity instead. The surge of victory powered her voice next, when she spoke.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” he answered back, slightly dazed. “Are you lost?”

Sophia nodded, knowing how to play the helpless young girl card. It worked, like it did every time. Humans were laughably easy to manipulate.

“I am Arthur.” The Prince moved slowly towards her, reassuring. “I have a friend here. He will be here soon, and then we can get you out of this forest. What’s your name?”

Sophia wanted to snarl at being treated like a child, being coddled, but she had to remember this was part of the game. “Sophia,” she answered, letting her voice quiver, adding in as much saccharine magic in it as she could.

“Sophia,” Arthur sheathed his sword, and came closer, placing his hand on her trembling shoulder. “It is going to be alright,” he promised.

He was standing near her, touching her, close enough to ensnare, so she looked up and smiled, “Yes. Yes it is,” and gathered her last reserves of strength, pushing. He looked into her eyes, and then couldn’t look away. “Everything is going to be alright, Arthur…” She raised her hands to cup his face, pulling him closer, the thrill of victory lighting up her nerves.

“Sophia!” A voice like a cracking whip startled her. She didn’t turn around, she was too close to give up now. She was not going to lose.

She pulled at Arthur’s face desperately, but the glamour seemed to have worn off all of a sudden, and he looked confused, pulling away. She resisted- no, she couldn’t lose, she couldn’t- until she felt overwhelmingly powerful tendrils of magic take control of her arms, pulling them away. She gave in then, letting her arms drop and taking a step away.

“Sophia… what are you doing here?”

Green, lush like the forest, and more alive than it, thrumming with reserves of magic everyone else could barely dream of, Merlin stepped closer. She tried to maintain her beautiful outlook, her haughty façade, but with her goal out of her hands, her reckless use of magic was catching up with her. Merlin took a step closer and her knees felt weak, giving in under her weight. She collapsed on the ground, hating herself for the weakness, and yet looked up at Merlin with defiant eyes.

“My job.”

Merlin rubbed his hand over his face, looking as tired as the rest of them felt. Or maybe he was that good of an actor.

“Did Nimueh put you up to this?”

She flinched at the name, recoiling, a snarl building up in her throat. Nobody was allowed to say it, nobody dared, but of course Merlin would be the exception here too. She looked away, not being able to bear the look of pity. “We do what we can to survive, Merlin. Not all of us have been gifted by the old religion like you are.”

“Gift,” Merlin laughed, bitter to the core. It resonated with her heart. “Take it away then. Oh, what wouldn’t I give to have it taken away.”

“Merlin.” A small confused voice made Merlin pause, and he looked away from Sophia to glance at the Prince. Sophia felt a well of affection pouring out of him, stronger than she had ever felt, sweet and pure.

Weakness, her mind snarled, but her heart yearned for something like this. It had been a while since she had felt an emotion not poisoned by the angry twisted all-encompassing blackness of their hearts, and the nauseating sweetness of glamour. The only thing she could remember, untouched by the darkness, was the warm embrace of her father, but that memory was too painful to linger on. After all, it was that, which had cost him his life.

“Just a minute, Arthur.” Merlin softened his voice, and his entire demeanour changed. He looked harmless… human. Sophia wanted to laugh again, because so much for pure emotions. Merlin was putting up as much of an act as everyone else, and the thread of guilt colouring his affection told her that he knew that.

“What’s going on? Who is she?”

“No one. Just give me a minute to sort this out,” Merlin reassured and Sophia wondered why he didn’t just silence him with magic. Hell, even she could, even as depleted as her power was.

“You’re getting soft, Merlin. It will be your downfall,” she taunted him, or maybe it was a warning. She wasn’t sure.

“Maybe it’s time for that,” Merlin muttered to himself, and then looked at Sophia with determination. “Don’t come near him again.”

He instilled enough power in his words that Sophia knew she would have to fight very hard to disobey him, a fight she did not have the energy for. She growled from where she was sitting, angry at her own helplessness. The despair that she could not contain must be glaringly obvious to Merlin.

Merlin, it seemed, was done with her. She wanted to get up and run away, but she knew that her legs would not support her. She was still too weak, and would be so for days to come. Full moon was still a while away.

“Let’s go, Arthur,” he nodded at the Prince, “Let me show you the lake today.”

When Merlin passed his side, his pace slowed down. Quickly, barely audible, he said, “I am sorry.” Before Sophia could snarl at him about keeping his empty apologies to himself, he pressed his hand to her shoulder.

She was startled by the surge of energy pulsing inside her body, warming her to the core. She didn’t even get time to respond, too caught up in feeling the sweet rush of magic, the way she hadn’t it felt in a while. The harvest replenished some of their strength, but it came with so many bindings, so meagre and poisoned. This… this was pure magic, and she felt like she was going to burst apart by its light. When she recovered, Merlin and his Prince had already moved away, and she could hear their distant laughter.

She let herself fall down and curl into foetal position, hugging her knees. Her eyes were spilling tears without her permission. She had tried to steal from Merlin, desperate to beat him, and failed. And in the end… he had given her strength from his own reserves, when he could’ve sucked her dry, and left her for dead. She had been vulnerable enough that it would’ve been easy. She would’ve done that, without a second thought, if their positions had been reversed.

She hated him even more now. Hated him so much she could kill him. Hated him so much she wanted him to win, and win, and win… because nobody else had the right to defeat him. Only she did. Someday she would show him who was stronger. Until that day, he needed to win.

She would be the one who overpowered Emrys.

One day.

“She was one of you, wasn’t she?” Arthur asked once they were settled. He had his back against a tree, Merlin by his side. The view in front of him was stunning, the trees suddenly giving way to a large lake he had never seen before, nor heard anyone talk about. It seemed impossible, and yet, impossibility was a word he was learning to stop relying on.

“Yes.” Merlin didn’t look at him. He looked miserable, and Arthur didn’t know what to say to cheer him up, and what to do with the bubbling questions on his mind.

“What did she want from me?”

“What does any girl deprived of the right to be herself want from the Crown Prince of Camelot?”

Arthur suddenly remembered the pull, the insane attraction he had felt towards her, the momentary need to elope with her and marry her, do anything at all as long as he could be by her side. He couldn’t believe that he had let himself be swayed like that, but now it made sense.

“It was an enchantment. A love spell!”

Merlin smiled self-deprecatingly, still not looking at him. “Of a kind.”

“Why didn’t it work?”

“She’s too weak to sustain it,” Merlin looked troubled, and then looked at Arthur with a half-hearted smirk. “God knows why. You are an easy enough target.”

“Oi.” Arthur had to smack him for that… making fun of him even about something so serious.

“Why?” Arthur asked after a while. He was just beginning to believe magic could be good, only to become the victim of a magical seduction. “Why would she do that?”

“Desperate times, Arthur. Ever since your father banned magic, we have been forced into hiding, starved of the essence that keeps us alive. Magic dries up in isolation, and if we don’t do what we have to, we will fade away. At least the weaker among us. The stronger ones will endure, becoming a mere shadow of what they used to be.”

“Us,” Arthur mused, and thought it was time to ask what had been bothering him for a while. “You aren’t human.”

He tried not to make his words sound like an accusation, but Merlin flinched away anyway. Arthur huffed and wrapped his arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. He was trying to understand, not pushing Merlin away. Merlin shook his head, looking at the grass on the ground.

Arthur waited for him to explain. He wouldn’t pry too much, but he was hoping Merlin trusted him enough by now. “We are what they used to call Aos Sí. We have been here for a while now, guarding places. People of the mound, they sometimes called us. But recently… we have been known by an easier name: the Sidhe.”

“You’re speaking a language I don’t understand, Merlin. Break it down for the non-magical folks here.”

Merlin laughed. It sounded genuine for the first time today. “Faeries. We are faeries.”

Arthur sputtered, pulling away to look at Merlin. “You’re serious.”

“Completely. Although the fae are of many different types. Pixies are also fae. So this is not technically accurate, but it’s the easiest explanation I can think of.”

Arthur stared for a while more and then started laughing. This was ridiculous. Merlin’s lips twitched too, and he started chuckling at the absurdity of the situation.

When he calmed down, he asked, “So… why is my father’s ban affecting you so much? You are born of magic, surely a monarch’s law cannot stop you from existing?”

“No. But you see, there’s a myth about magic you might have heard. It grows stronger if you believe in it. While it’s not true of everyday magic… it’s true for the Sidhe. Once, before your father’s law, we were beloved… or so my mother tells me. We blessed the land and the crop thrived, life flourished, and the people sent us gifts and love for it, making us stronger, the cycle repeating endlessly. Their devotion feeding us, and our magic in turn helping them.”

“Ah.” Arthur felt like he could understand now, could see how damaging the ban was. He did suspect the crops were doing worse and worse every year. How long until Uther started blaming magic for it, and in a way, he would be right.

The magic ban was draining the land of its resources and its king was too blinded by his hatred to see it.

“So when Uther passed his law and started executing anyone associated with even the word magic, people were too afraid to take our name anymore. We grow weaker and fewer, day by day, and like everything else, we just want to survive.”

That girl’s motivation suddenly made sense. If she married the prince, who would be king one day, she could convince him to change that law. Arthur didn’t know if he was brave enough to undo everything his father had stood for, but he knew that if he kept having Merlin by his side… he would be tempted.

“Poor girl.” Merlin's head snapped up to look at him in surprise, like he couldn’t believe that Arthur genuinely felt sorry for her.

“Of course. Of course you would sympathize with someone who just tried to bewitch you. Typical. You really are a turnip head.” Merlin sounded half annoyed, and half awed by him.

Arthur half formed a retort, before remembering something else. “You mentioned someone. Nimueh. Who is she?”

Merlin’s face darkened. There was a muted fury in his expressions that made Arthur recoil. He had no idea Merlin could carry so much hatred in his heart.

“She is everything that’s wrong in this world.”

“How?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Merlin looked at him, with almost a plea in his eyes begging him not to push and Arthur decided to let him have the reprieve.

He stared at the still lake, the wind barely making any ripples.

“I have never heard of a lake in these areas, let alone in the middle of the forest,” Arthur mused, not really asking a question.

“It’s because it’s magical,” Merlin teased.

“Of course it is.”

“Yep.” Merlin turned towards him excitedly, “You can only reach it if the Old Religion deems you worthy. Or if one of us want you here. Otherwise, it doesn’t exist.”

“Magical lakes, unicorns, dragons and faeries. Next thing you know I am hearing stories about ghosts and travelling to magical realms.”

“Well,” Merlin bit his lower lip, cheekily, “I am sure it can be arranged if you are so sweet on it.”

Arthur laughed. He liked Merlin’s company- missed it acutely when parted- and wondered what it would take to convince him to move to Camelot City instead.

He looked at Merlin, his eyes glinting and his cheeks flushed with genuine delight, and thought, maybe it won’t take too much after all.

“Give her this tincture, three times a day, and the infection will settle in a few days’ time,” Gauius reassured the crying daughter, handing her a small vial. “Your father will be fine, Amelia. Trust me.” He patted her shoulder, instilling as much confidence in his voice as he could. It seemed to work, because the girl sniffled one more time, and wiped her tears with her sleeve.

“He’s all I have in the world.” Her eyes welled up again.

“I know. Which is why I am personally looking after him. Pray to the Gods, and don’t forget to give him his medicine, and if the Gods are willing, he will be back on his feet in no time.”

Amelia nodded, determination evident on her face, and that was when Gaius knew the old man would be okay. He had the support of a strong daughter.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my child.” He checked the man’s pulse one more time- weak, but regular- before exiting the house.

He had three more stops to make, and a visit to the King’s chambers, before he could retire for the night.

There was a recent outbreak of disease in the city, and Gaius had been on his feet all day. He was realizing he wasn’t as young as he used to be, and needed an assistant to help him run errands. Spending all day mixing herbs and poultices was hard enough without travelling throughout the city to deliver them to the houses.

He paid a visit to a recovering knight, injured in battle. His wounds were healing adequately, so Gaius gave him a small doze of medicine to help with the pain. He would be in fighting form in a few days, Gaius was pleased to conclude. Arthur would appreciate that. His next stop was the new mother; her delivery had been complicated, the newborn weak. Gaius had been afraid he wouldn’t survive, but the baby had shown remarkable resilience.

He placed his index finger in the baby’s hand, feeling him grasp it. Gaius looked at the mother, her eyes shining with tears, and smiled.

“This is one strong child you gave birth to, Maureen. He pulled himself from the brink of death.”

“He will be okay?” she asked, scared and hopeful.

“I don’t see why not.”

This was his favourite part, giving people the good news, telling them their loved ones would be okay.

The next house was the part he hated. There was a reason he had been keeping it for last.

“That can’t be true,” the man shook his head in disbelief.

“I am afraid it is.”

“We got married just last week!”

Gaius understood. But there was nothing he could do. She had a deadly tumour growing inside her, and there was nothing he could do.

“I am sorry, lad,” he said, miserably, and averted his eyes when the young man grabbed his wife’s hand, sobbing near her bed. He barely caught a glimpse of her running her fingers through his hair, comforting him.

Life could be so unfair, stealing the light from young blood, while the old ones like him lived on.

His feet took him towards the king’s chambers then, his heart heavy. He was getting too old for this job. But he had a duty towards the royal family.

“Sire,” he bowed when he entered, Uther lying in his bed, propped up by the pillows, poring over some records.

“Gaius,” Uther put away the pages he was holding when he saw him.

“I was about to retire for the night, My Lord. I came here to ask if there is anything you need.”

“No. That would be all.”

“But Sire, your headache.”

“It’s nothing I can’t manage.” Uther was stubborn, as reluctant to admit weakness as his son was.

Gaius shook his head. “I am not doubting your ability to persevere, I am just saying you don’t have to. That’s why we are here.”

Uther looked angry, but Gaius had been by his side for years, long enough to know it was fake. He took a few steps forward and placed a vial of potion on the table beside the bed. “This will help you sleep.”

Uther’s eyes lingered on the vial, and Gaius knew that he wanted it. The king had not been sleeping well, and Gaius was aware that if he just left it there, Uther would probably succumb to the need for sleep somewhere in the middle of the night. “The kingdom can’t afford to have you fall ill, Sire,” he added, just in case.

Uther looked away for a while, contemplating, and then looked at Gaius, honest and open. “Thank you, Gaius. You have always been a loyal friend.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Gaius let his smile show, bowing a little before turning to leave. He was at the door when Uther called his name.

“Gaius.”

“Yes, My Lord?” He turned, waiting.

Uther looked conflicted, before asking. “How is Arthur doing?”

Some of Gaius’s confusion must have shown on his face because Uther explained, “He has been behaving strangely of late, and I was wondering if you knew anything about it. He doesn’t confide in me, but then, I was always too busy being a king to have time to be a father.”

Gaius felt a pang of sadness for the lonely king, but also realized it was an easy excuse. Arthur had needed a father more than he needed a king, even more so because he didn’t have a mother. Uther was not the one who had suffered here. He was only reaping what he had sowed.

Even so, he felt a little guilty when he lied, “I have no clue, Sire. He would hardly share anything with the court physician now, would he?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Uther agreed. And wasn’t that his biggest flaw. He easily dismissed the importance of other people. “That would be all. You can leave now.”

Gaius nodded, before leaving. He was looking forward to lying in his bed, and sleeping. He would have to wake up before sunrise again to brew more potions. The aches accumulated during the day slowed his pace, and he sighed in relief as he pushed open the door to his quarters.

He took a few steps inside before he noticed he wasn’t alone.

He should’ve expected this.

“I suppose you’re back for another lesson, Sire?” he tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, but he was tired, his self-control weakened.

He shouldn’t have worried, because Arthur seemed not to have heard anything off in his tone, busy perusing through his books. “Yes.”

Gaius trudged towards the nearest chair, and sat down in it, looking at the energetic prince, rifling through his books like a kid playing with toys. Gaius had seen him as a child and couldn’t remember Arthur ever being so fascinated by anything before, except maybe when he was first given a sword and allowed to practice.

“May I ask the reason for your sudden interest in magical education?” Gaius was growing concerned. If Uther came to know about Arthur’s interest, he would not be pleased.

“I am the future king, Gaius. I can’t fight something if I don’t know everything about it,” Arthur said, flippant.

Gaius refrained from pointing out that it didn’t sound like he wanted to fight magic. He wasn’t interested in how to defeat it, he was more interested in what it could do, what it meant. He had spent ages learning about different magical creatures, but not once had he asked Gaius the tricks to defeat or destroy them. He tried not to listen to the hope his heart was whispering, that Arthur would be a different king than his father, but he still couldn’t help smiling at how transparent the prince was.

“Do you remember our last lesson?” he asked instead.

“Griffins and Centaurs, yes I do. I read the book you lent me.” Arthur pointed at a big tome lying on the desk, the one he had given to Arthur in hopes it would keep him occupied for a while, but apparently Gaius needed to up his game.

“So…” he suddenly wondered if Arthur was avoiding his gaze on purpose, “is there something specific you want to know about?”

Arthur met his gaze and shook his head, “Nothing in particular.”

He really was bad at lying, at least to Gaius, who knew all his tells. The way he was standing stiffly, his hands at his back, a picture of honesty and innocence, told Gaius he was trying desperately to hide something.

“Arthur…”

Arthur sagged, “Why can’t I keep anything from you?” He sat down across from him, holding his chin in his hand, excited like a little boy. Gaius couldn’t deny he enjoyed these lessons. It had been so long since he could talk about magic without being afraid.

“It’s because I know you too well, Sire. Now, what is it you’re curious about?”

Arthur bit his lip, before giving in. “The Aos Si.”

Gaius sat up straighter, alarmed. “Where did you hear this name, Arthur?”

“So you know about them?” Arthur ignored the question completely.

Gaius nodded, dread settling in his stomach. “I do.”

“Would you tell me about them?” He seemed to not be able to hear Gaius’s concern.

“Arthur. This is important. Where did you hear this name? Nobody calls them that anymore.”

“Yes. I know. They are called something like… _Sh-ee_ aren’t they?” Arthur was bouncing on his seat, excited.

“The Sidhe. Yes.” Gaius rubbed the bridge of his nose, before getting up from his seat and moving toward his bookshelf.

He picked up the book he was looking for, opening it and turning pages until he found the right one, and put it on the table next to Arthur.

“Here. The Aos si, or the Sidhe… they are one of the earliest magical beings we have written accounts for. Some say they were born with the earth, and prospered with it. Their magic is bound to the earth, feeding it and taking strength from it.”

Arthur’s eyes took in the pictures in the book, as he turned pages. “They were called people of the mound, and were worshipped like gods for a while.”

“What happened then?”

“Gods demand devotion Arthur. They wither without it. And if it’s not given willingly, they have means to ensure it in other ways.” Gaius looked at him, grave.

Arthur finally seemed to look bothered, “What do you mean?”

“Glamour.”

“What’s that?”

“The Sidhe can charm any living being, bend them to their will, make them become besotted and ensnared.”

“Like a love spell?” Arthur asked, with sudden realization.

“Exactly like a love spell.”

“What’s the purpose then? What do they do after having someone forcibly fall in love with them?”

Gaius thought about how to word it properly. “They could feed off that devotion for as long as the human lived.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Arthur relaxed. “It almost sounds like marriage.”

“Unless,” Gaius interrupted, “Unless they are power hungry. In that case, they could crave more than that… a sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?”

“Human sacrifice.” Gaius tried to show how grave the situation was. “It would not be hard for a Sidhe to accomplish that, Arthur, especially if it’s strong.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Arthur stood up and turned away.

“Listen to me, Sire. If you have met a Sidhe somewhere, you must never go there again. They are dangerous. They control the flow of magic through the world, and can twist all perception.”

“I don’t believe that. Merlin wouldn’t hurt anyone! He cries when a rabbit dies,” Arthur argued, stopping himself after his outburst.

There was a ringing silence that followed his words.

“Merlin?” Gaius asked tentatively.

“I am tired, Gaius. We can continue our lesson later.” Arthur was closed off now, angry and guarded. He started walking out, but at the door he paused and glanced back. Then he turned around to grab the book Gaius had been reading from, before leaving.

It all happened so quickly, that Gaius could only watch helplessly. He tried to call out for the prince, stop him, but Arthur didn’t want to converse anymore. Gaius ended up staring at the closed door when Arthur left, trying to will away the feeling of impending doom in his heart.

“May the Gods be merciful,” Gaius prayed.

Things were about to change, and he wasn’t sure if it was for the best.

“Someone’s looking troubled.” Merlin’s voice called out, startling him.

Arthur had been sitting on the fallen tree trunk for a while now, wondering if he should go ahead, or call out for Merlin. The conversation with Gaius was still niggling at his mind. He looked up at the words, finding no sign of Merlin near him.

He sighed…. Merlin was acting like an idiot again.

“Climb down from the tree before the monkeys start bullying you for encroaching on their territory, Merlin.” He looked up, used to Merlin’s antics, and found the man grinning from where he was perched on the lower branch of a tree.

“There are no monkeys in this forest,” Merlin argued.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Well. There is one.”

“Clot pole,” Merlin laughed, and jumped down, coming to sit beside Arthur. “So… what’s making you so maudlin?” Merlin bumped shoulders with him, jostling him a bit.

“Nothing.” Arthur wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.

He stood up and started walking, hearing Merlin follow behind him. The man could be silent when he wanted, but most of the time he was blundering around, crunching dry leaves under his feet.

“Alright, don’t tell me. At least don’t walk away,” Merlin whined, and Arthur stopped in his tracks.

Merlin, who didn’t notice his sudden break, bumped into him, losing his balance. Arthur grabbed his arm, stopping him from falling.

“You’re an idiot.”

“You were the one who stopped without warning,” Merlin pouted, and Arthur’s lips twitched despite himself. Merlin was too damn adorable.

“What’s on the agenda today?” Arthur asked, letting Merlin catch up and walk alongside him.

“Well… I think your initiation into the magical world is going very well. So today, it’s your choice. What do you want to learn?”

Arthur thought about it, and then said without looking up. “I want to know about glamour.”

It was Merlin who froze this time. Arthur took a few steps forward and noticed, turning around. “What?” Merlin’s voice trembled.

“Glamour. Isn’t that what that girl tried to do to me?”

“How do you know about it?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Arthur stared at him, daring him to deny it.

Merlin nodded, and the rage Arthur didn’t even know he was carrying, the betrayal, flared inside him. “You’ve been lying to me.”

“I have never lied to you,” Merlin disagreed, quietly. He sounded guilty.

“Is that what all this has been? Glamour? Everything we shared, was it all a lie?” Arthur didn’t want to believe it, but he couldn’t help the doubt in his heart.

“It’s not like that!” Merlin’s voice grew stronger.

“Have you enchanted me to feel the way I do?” Arthur voiced the worries that had kept him up at night the last few days, “Have you enchanted me to care about you?”

“I have never, _never_ , used glamour on you, Arthur Pendragon.” Merlin stepped closer towards him and steeled his voice. It growled, and Arthur heard the clouds raging above them, a storm brewing. “And I will not have you insult me like that.”

“Never?” Arthur deflated, his voice small.

“Never.” Merlin was close enough, that he placed a hand on his chest. Arthur gripped it tightly, staring at the sincerity in Merlin’s eyes, as the wretched knot of despair loosened its hold on his heart.

“I believe you.”

Merlin laughed self-deprecatingly. “You shouldn’t.”

Arthur knew that, but it was out of his hands. He believed Merlin, and if it ended up being his downfall, so be it.

“Where did you learn about the glamour, anyway?” Merlin asked.

Arthur smiled. “Remember I told you that I have been learning about magic with the physician? Well… I asked him about the Sidhe.”

“What did he say?” Merlin asked, turning away slightly.

“Nothing good,” Arthur confessed, and Merlin took a few steps ahead. Arthur grabbed his arm, not letting him run away. “I told him I don’t believe him.”

“Maybe you should.”

“I trust you, Merlin.” Arthur surprised himself with how true that was.

“Then you are a fool.” Merlin looked at him, hatred shining in them. It took Arthur a moment to recognize it wasn’t directed at him.

“You won’t hurt me, Merlin,” he pulled him closer, until he could feel the beat of Merlin’s heart against his own. Merlin looked down, but Arthur used his hand to tilt his chin up. “Can you show it to me? The Glamour?”

He was jumping headfirst into a situation he couldn’t control, but he felt reckless right now. With Merlin so close to him, he also felt brave.

“Arthur,” Merlin’s eyes met with his, longing evident in them, and wretched misery.

“I want you to…Please.”

Merlin’s eyes glowed gold, and Arthur stared into them, at the beautiful flecks shining like starlight, burning him. Arthur was thoroughly enchanted, moving closer, until his lips were hovering above Merlin’s. He wondered if it was the glamour making him ache for the kiss so much- but no. He had dreamt about Merlin’s lips far too often to blame this on magic.

Just before he caved, closed that little distance to taste Merlin’s breath, his skin, finally, Merlin pulled away slightly.

“No,” Merlin shook his head, “Not like this.”

“Merlin,” Arthur whined, so close to getting what he wanted and not willing to be thwarted.

“Not today, Arthur.” He pressed his forehead to Arthur’s collarbone, and Arthur’s arms wrapped around him. This was good too, this was perfect.

He hugged Merlin, feeling his warmth, and agreed. “Alright. Not today.”

He understood the sentiment. He was too full of doubt today, too unsure of what was his own desire, and what the magic was making him feel. He needed time to figure it out for himself, sort out his emotions; and so did Merlin.

“Next time?” Arthur asked, tentative, hopeful.

Merlin nodded. “Next time.”


	4. Phase 4: Gibbous

The first time Merlin saw a Harvest, he was eight years old. There were forbidden from lingering near the lake at full moon, but Merlin had always been too curious for his own good. So he hid behind the trees, and watched the High Priestess lead the beautiful man into the lake, the full moon illuminating them, making them look ethereal.

He couldn’t look away as they kissed.

Later, he hid in his mother’s lap and cried, hiccups wracking his frame. Hunith had instantly understood when he came running into her arms, tears staining his face.

“Oh, Merlin,” she had sighed, and he felt betrayed because she had known.

“I hate magic.”

Hunith ran her fingers through his hair, trying to comfort him.

“I hate it. I hate it.”

She had let him cry it all out, until he was tired, sometimes letting out a sob. “Why did she do it, mother? He was so beautiful…”

“I know, son.” She sounded sad. “I know.”

He had met Arthur shortly after that. It was too soon for another full moon, but he had seen him and been terrified. He was even more beautiful than the man he had seen the Priestess take last week, and if she saw him… she would take him too.

He had felt proud of himself for saving him.

He was too young to notice his mother being weaker than usual after the Harvest, that fortnight. Too naive to know the viciousness of the Priestess yet.

**

He vaguely remembered his father. He remembered how Hunith’s face lit up when he was around, and she wore a wreath of flowers that he wove for her, every day. She was the most beautiful woman Merlin had ever seen, and he associated his father with the time when she was full of light.

He remembered the day his mother stopped wearing flowers. It was the same day the High Priestess stormed into their hut, and bound his father, suspending him in the air.

“You have what’s mine?” She had said.

“It’s not yours, and it never will be.” Balinor had spit in her face. For the first time in Merlin’s life, she had looked anything but beautiful to him, her face twisting in rage into something nightmarish.

She walked away, Balinor hovering in the air behind him. He ran after his mother, who tried to follow them. His father had told her not to, and she collapsed on the ground, sobbing, as Merlin stared at the sad smile Balinor threw his way.

He hadn’t known he would never see his father again.

“How can you do this?” Freya had asked, as he created strawberries in the palm of his hand because she was craving them.

“It’s easy,” he had smiled, “I just… talk to the earth. It’s nice. It always gives me what I want. Don’t you do that too?”

“How?” Her eyes were wide with awe.

Merlin had just started to explain when his Mother grabbed his shoulder, pulling him away. “I am sorry, Freya dear, but I need to talk to my son.”

She had not waited for her reply, dragging him towards a corner.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Freya wanted strawberries-,” he started saying but his mother shook him harshly, her eyes wide in fear.

“You can’t do that. Don’t ever do that again, you hear me? Don’t tell anyone about what you can do.”

“Mother!” He felt tears well up in his eyes at how anxious she felt, how her magic was flaring in worry. “But everyone has it.”

“You’re special, Merlin. So special, just like your father… but no one can know. If _she_ finds out,” Hunith had covered her mouth and held in a sob. “I can’t lose you as well.”

“I won’t. I won’t tell anyone.” He would do anything in the world to keep that look away from his mother’s face.

The next time Freya wanted strawberries, he told her he didn’t know how to make that happen. The heartbreak on her face was better than the one that would be on her mother’s face if he had obliged her request, even if only slightly.

He tried to stop the Harvest one time.

Just once.

He remembered her cruel laughter for months afterwards. He could never forget how his mother couldn’t even walk anymore, crumpling on the ground when she tried to get up. The memory of Freya crying in his arms - her magic weaker than he had ever felt before - stayed seared in his mind.

He never did it again.

“Merlin, you shouldn’t.” Hunith touched his face to bring him out of his memories, and he looked at her sadly. She was lying on a soft bed Merlin had coaxed the forest to create for her, the trees making a small shelter around them. Her hands were frail and weak, and he grasped one and wrapped both of his hands around it. “You don’t have to.”

“I think I do, Mother,” Merlin said, sadly. He didn’t want to… but there was no other way. He couldn’t let everyone he cared about die because of him. They didn’t deserve to suffer.

“There must be another way.” Hunith shook her head and tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down. She was so weak, deprived of the magic for so long. Nimueh was anything but merciful, especially not towards Balinor’s wife… not towards Merlin’s mother. He wondered if he wasn’t already too late.

“ _Merlin_ ,” a voice whispered inside his head, deep and old, and he shook his head. It would have to wait.

He tried to do what he did for Freya, once again. Tried to summon as much magic as he could, tried to imbue it into the hand he was grasping, but all Hunith managed was a flicker of gold in her eyes.

It wasn’t enough.

The magic was dying… and so were they all. It was all a matter of time.

He couldn’t bear it any longer and tore himself away, standing up.

“Merlin… don’t do something you'll regret later. Don’t do something you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself for.” Hunith called out, voice feeble, but her aura brimming with love, brimming with worry.

“I will be fine, Mother,” he aimed to reassure her but knew he didn’t succeed. “I have to go. I have been summoned.”

He didn’t wait for a reply before walking away. Hunith was too weak to follow, but her worry lingered in the air for a long while.

Merlin made his way deeper into the forest, the persistent darkness becoming almost overwhelming with every step. Suffocating. His magic rebelled, tried to move away from the twisted tendrils wrapping around it, pulling it closer, but he persevered. He was being called, and he didn't want others to suffer for his cowardice.

_“Merlin…”_ Merlin huffed, tempted to take the offer, face another kind of monster than the one waiting in the depth of the forest, but that could wait. Nimueh wouldn’t.

He shook his head and carried on walking. There was gloom hanging in the air, an aura of death. Merlin caressed the bark of a blackened tree, noticing how it didn't even have a spark of life left inside it any longer, not a sliver of old magic that Merlin could feed, could revive. He muttered a heartfelt apology before moving along, knowing his part in bleeding the land dry of the magic. At least he always refrained from taking too much, always tried to give back whenever he could spare some of the power.

Nimueh didn't care for any such restraint.

Here as well, he felt like he failed them. Failed the forest that always gave him so much, that kept him alive. Just because coming deeper into the territory of the Priestess made his magic uncomfortable, that was no excuse to abandon it. He felt fury bubble inside his heart, as he tried to sweep the area with his magic, only to meet with complete silence. Nothing lived anymore, not even the gnomes and pixies that used to flit around everywhere.

She was going too far.

If only there was a way to stop her. Nobody else would stand up to her, the laws of Old Religion strong and unbreakable. The Priestess was the dam for the flow of magic, the reservoir. She decided who got how much, she was supposed to be impartial and just, to bring peace and equality to the land. The Religion had not accounted for someone like Nimueh holding that position, making them all vulnerable... killers.

The darkness tried to suck him in, so he withdrew inside himself, folded himself into a core and tightened it securely. He was sick of listening to death anyway, and he didn't want to give her more proof of how much her power didn't affect him. She had her suspicions, but if she knew for certain, Merlin wasn't sure if he could make it out of here alive.

The deeper he went, the darker it got, until the filtered light of the sun seemed poisoned as well, but Merlin didn’t stop until he reached the centre of it. There, on a throne made of dead wood, sat Nimueh. Merlin's blood boiled at seeing her, all poised beauty, vivacious and brimming with life, sitting on a throne built on death and decay. It was a sharp contrast, and Merlin wished her evilness showed on her face too.

She still looked the way she had when Merlin was eight- her beauty dazzling him the same way it did her victims.

And who was to say he wasn't one, now.

"Merlin," she spoke softly, faux saccharine, and Merlin tried not to show the way he cringed. "You came."

"You called." He nodded his head slightly, not saying what he wanted to, but the smile creeping on Nimueh's lips let him know she could read it anyway: _'you didn't give me a choice.'_

Merlin knew he was exuding hostility, but he didn't even try to reign it in, just focusing on his outward look of deference. She was still the High Priestess. She could still harm him with just a thought... or worse- harm the ones he cared about.

"I did." She leaned back on her throne, mocking openly. "I wanted to remind you that it's the eclipse in five days."

Merlin knew. She knew that Merlin knew. She also knew that he was dreading it. "Yes."

"Then you do know that it would be the best time for Harvest, no? When we are at the strongest, when the gates of Avalon are open wider than any other time."

"What's your point, Nimueh?"

Her black magic raged at the casual use of her name. Nobody called her that anymore, but Merlin didn't care.

"My point... Emrys," she taunted, pure venom, "Is that you better come through with your promise."

"When have I not?" Merlin raised his eyebrow, defiant.

"This is different... you have grown to care for the mortal." She spoke the word with utter distaste, and Merlin leashed his own disgust.

"It won't be a problem."

"Arthur better be there, Emrys, or you won't like the consequences," she threatened and Merlin could feel the fear creep up on him. Hunith wouldn't be strong enough to withstand her wrath. Nor Freya.

"He will be there," he looked down at the ground, knowing it to be true. He had already asked him, no glamour, no compulsion. In actuality, there was no reason for Merlin to be so confident that Arthur would listen to the request...

But wasn't that the damndest part of it all.

Arthur did listen. He did care. He would be here, just because Merlin asked.

"Good," Nimueh said and closed her eyes, an act of clear dismissal.

Merlin sighed in relief and turned around. He was almost out of hearing range when he heard her whispering voice, inside his head, “ _Do not fail me, Merlin.”_

Merlin couldn’t control his rage anymore. He clenched his fists and screamed, letting his magic wreak havoc. The branches of trees groaned, the trunks cracking. By the time he got himself under control, he was standing in a clearing with dozens of trees flattened on the forest floor around him.

In the distance, he could hear her laughing.

“ _Merlin_ ,” the call had become incessant now, and Merlin knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid it for long. Yet, he needed a little more time to think. He needed the echoes of Nimueh’s laughter to fade away before he was ready to face another talk about destiny; another reminder of how heavy the burden was.

He spent some time with Freya, weak after his outburst of magic. _Stupid_ , he reprimanded himself, to waste the already flimsy magic reserves on something as ridiculous as a temper tantrum. Freya refused to take any of his energy, instead just pulling his arm around herself and sitting with her head on his shoulder. He could taste how weak she was, and felt all the more guilty. But he could also feel how grateful she was, for having a friend, and the absolute lack of any resentment- the kind he was used to feeling from everyone else- and that helped. He closed his eyes and synced their breaths, soaking in the temporary calm of the moment. It would shatter soon, along with his world, but for now all that he could feel was deep-seated love of his closest friend, and the quiet contentment of the forest, feeding him back his lost reserves of strength.

“You are going to do it then?” Freya asked after a long time, quietly and without moving.

Merlin didn’t acknowledge the question, knowing she would let it go if he didn’t answer. For a while he thought he wasn’t going to. He surprised himself when he said, “Yes.” Raw and bitter and full of hatred, for all the things leading to this, for himself.

He expected a protest, an argument to stop him, to make him reconsider. Or maybe he expected approval, encouragement to become what he had despised all his life.

Instead, he felt a hand slide around his back, hugging him tightly, and the air suffused with the warmth of compassion, and quiet acceptance. She was going to stand by his side, no matter what he decided, without judgement.

Merlin let out a sob he didn’t know he was holding and sagged in her hold, letting his head rest on top of hers. A tear trickled from his eye and soaked into her hair. She didn’t say anything, just sat there, in quiet companionship.

It was more than Merlin had ever dared to imagine.

“ _Merlin_ ,” the call broke the calm reverie again, and Merlin sighed. Might as well get through this. It wasn’t going to go away.

He gently pulled away from Freya, standing up. She looked at him questioningly, noticing his trepidation. Merlin shook his head, not willing to answer. It wasn’t her burden to carry. She didn’t stop him as he walked away, but he felt her concern for a long time, lingering in the air.

He found a quiet clearing, and sat down cross-legged. “ _Merlin_.” He shook his head, resentful of the impatience, and tried to find his inner core, ignoring the old voice inside his head. “ _Merlin._ ”

Ah. Damn it.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and plunged.

Jumping into the incorporeal world felt much like diving underwater. Everything was dark and shadowy, a haze clouding his vision. He had to squint, concentrate, to see what was happening. When he first discovered this ability, he had investigated it for hours, getting lost in seeing magic from a whole new perspective, seeing the thread of it connecting the whole world. Back then, Merlin would jump at every opportunity, finding a secluded spot to go exploring. Once, he had stayed under for so long that when he surfaced, his mother was crying, sure that he was lost to her.

She had forbidden him from indulging himself with it anymore, but he didn’t listen. The day he followed one of the strongest threads - the pull of magic as deep and old as the earth itself - was the day he stopped.

He tried not to let that thought weaken him, as he followed that thread again, the path familiar even though he had traversed it just once before. He looked around in sick fascination, noticing how frayed the threads had become over the years. Last time, they had been flimsy, but still brimming with energy. Now, some of them were torn, the rest looking close enough to snap at any moment. They had lost their shine, dull and lifeless.

Here, it was obvious how much the magic had suffered. Merlin was almost grateful he didn’t see the downfall day by day- not in such a quantifiable way.

Merlin walked, following the worn thread. Although fraying, it was nevertheless the strongest of them all. Unlike the rest, it had managed to withstand the atrophying effectof time. Through the forest, and across the plains, to the castle, he walked. Nobody noticed him, for he was invisible to the waking world, as he climbed down the stairs to the dungeon. It was dark, and he created a flame by just a thought- it was easier to do magic here, even if more abstract. His path lit up, as he stepped through the labyrinth of tunnels. Even if he couldn’t see his previous footsteps, the voice calling his name would’ve made finding his destination easy.

“At last, young warlock, we meet again.” Merlin heard the distinct sound of beating wings, before a large creature settled down on the rocks in front of him, chained in his spacious cage.

Merlin suspected the Great Dragon also existed in the corporeal world, he just had a big presence here too. Last time, he had claimed to be a creature made purely of old magic, and if that was so, Merlin could understand why he could feel him so strongly- so much stronger than anything else- here in the spirit world.

Merlin scoffed. Like it was any surprise he was here. “You have been calling for me for days. Don’t tell me you forgot?”

“I never forget. I simply refuse to think about the things I have no use for.”

“Yeah, right.” Merlin shook his head in distaste. “Calling me was just a way to pass the time for you.”

“I would not say that, young warlock. You have a great destiny ahead, and it is my duty to help you in that path.”

Merlin laughed bitterly at the reminder. “Yes. I remember. My _destiny_ ,” he spat the words. “Killing someone is a wonderful thing to look forward to.”

“Sacrifices are necessary to achieve great and important things. You are still too young to understand that. One day, you will.”

“Cut the nonsense, would you? Why am I here?”

“Why are you here? That indeed is a question we must ask ourselves. Why do you think you are here?”

Merlin was not impressed by the Dragon's deflections, so he crossed his hands and waited. He had not come looking for help or advice… whatever the creature wanted, it would have to ask for it.

At length, he spoke, “It has come to my attention that you have been having… second thoughts… about what you have to do.”

There it was, the crux of it. “So what? Is it so wrong to consider that there might be another way? A way without the loss of an innocent life?”

The Dragon snarled, the air from its nostrils coming out in steam. “There is no other way!” It shuffled forward, stones breaking under its claws. “And I would hardly call the life of Arthur Pendragon innocent. There is far too much blood on his hands.”

“There is on mine too.”

“That is different,” the Dragon argued, and Merlin suddenly couldn’t stand the hypocrisy of it.

“How? How is that different?”

“Your naivety is laughable. Do you think if you spare his life, things would change? What about every other soul, harvested to keep your kind alive. Don’t you want that to stop?” The Dragon’s teeth twisted in a sort of sadistic smile and Merlin looked away, tired.

“There must be another way.” He hated how broken he sounded, how desperate for something to hold on to.

“You must trust me on this Merlin. If there was another way, I would know of it. Arthur Pendragon must sacrifice himself, in order to restore magic to this land.”

“You mean, I must kill him.”

“That is not what I said,” the Dragon disagreed. As if there could be another meaning behind his words. As if he wasn’t enjoying the pain on Merlin’s face. “But the fact remains. Without Arthur’s sacrifice, the land would stay deprived of magic, until the very embers of it die out as well. It would be the end of all things magic. The end of you, the end of me.”

It warned in a grave voice, and Merlin understood. “All this, because you want to survive.”

“Don’t we all?” It didn’t even give Merlin the courtesy of sugar-coating it.

“This is unfair.” Merlin knew he sounded like a child, but he couldn’t help looking up at the Dragon with big hopeful eyes. His gaze was met with cold certainty instead, the Dragon having lost all his ability for compassion in the decades’ long cold solitude.

“This is life, Merlin.”

It spread its wings and took off into the air, flying out of Merlin’s sight. Merlin allowed himself a moment to grieve. He rested against the cold stone walls, and swallowed his cries.

This was what he had to choose between: saving his own soul, or saving the souls of all things magic. A choice, between his morality, and his destiny; between Arthur Pendragon, and the future of magic.

He wondered if he failed at being a Fae because of how difficult the choice seemed, and how much he yearned to choose a different path than the one he knew was right.

When Merlin opened his eyes back in the corporeal world, there were clouds covering the sky above him, pouring down. The droplets of water had soaked his skin, chilling him to the very bones. He tilted his face up at it, and let the water drip down his face, letting the sky cry the tears he wouldn’t allow himself to shed.

Morgana opened her eyes slowly, letting out a sob, her pillow tear-soaked. She gasped where she lay for a while, the lingering pain of the dream still clutching her heart. She turned around and stared at the canopy of her bed.

This was the fourth time this week, she had had the same dream, with slight variations. She ran her fingers through her hair, wiping her face with her sleeve, and sat up. She should talk to Arthur. She knew he would laugh at her, mock her for being so superstitious, but he was also her brother, and she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if she didn’t do something to change what was about to happen.

Because as terrified as it made her, she knew they were not dreams. Uther could never know, but Arthur… Arthur was not his father, and he would listen. He must.

She composed herself, washing her face and sitting at the dressing table, before Gwen entered her chambers.

“Did you sleep well, lady Morgana?” Gwen was a sweet girl, always courteous. Her voice made the remnant shadows of the nightmare fade away as well.

“Like a baby,” she lied, and could tell by the concern in the maid’s eyes that she wasn't fooling her. Well, there was no need to concern people needlessly.

Gwen didn’t say anything, starting to get her clothes ready for the day, and helping her into them. Morgana followed her lead silently, only speaking when she was doing her hair.

“Gwen?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Can you take a message to Arthur from me?” She saw her nod in the mirror. “Tell him I want to see him in my chambers, as soon as he can make time.” When Gwen kept combing her hair, she turned around and glared, but it was halfhearted. She couldn’t ever treat the girl like a servant, something about her felt warm and bright, and sometimes she thought if she concentrated, she could feel how much Gwen cared. She couldn’t deride someone whose heart was so pure.

“Now, Gwen.”

“But, my lady… what about breakfast?” Gwen wrung her hands, clearly worried.

“I am not hungry.”

“You didn’t even have dinner. You must not ignore your health like this.”

“Gwen!” She scolded, and then instantly felt guilty. “Thank you for your concern,” her smile was tremulous, but she tried. “But I’m okay. Tell my brother to come see me. Please?”

Gwen backed away, hurt but understanding, and nodded. “As you wish, lady Morgana.”

Morgana sighed, letting her head rest against the back of the chair, and closed her eyes. Great misery lay ahead, and all of it encircled Arthur, and led back to the forest. She had no idea what she would say to him, no idea what the right path was.

_The moon was shining brightly, the sound of laughter filtering in through the leaves, and then everything turned red, and the forest started bleeding, rivulets of blood dripping from the leaves, until she was knee deep in it. She tried to run, she had to warn him, save him, but her feet were rooted on the spot, and she could hear it- could hear pained screams, and a cruel laughter echoing in the distance, as she gasped for breath, having no air in her lungs to scream out her warnings._

“Arthur!” She jerked awake, the name on the tip of her tongue.

“Morgana! Oh, thank god.” Arthur’s face was bent over hers, his hand on her shoulder. It took her a moment to realize she had fallen asleep, another to comprehend that Arthur was really there, alive and well, and the screams and the blood were just a dream.

“Arthur.” She bent forward and buried her face in Arthur’s shirt, tears that she didn’t want anyone to see spilling from her eyes and soaking into the cloth. “Arthur.”

Arthur’s hand rose up and awkwardly patted her head, and Morgana had to smile even in her distraught state. Her brother really didn’t know how to comfort someone. She let herself calm down, surrounded by the proof that Arthur was safe, at least for now, before pushing him away gently.

Arthur let go easily, looking relieved. Morgana summoned a smile on her lips and flipped her hair back, and tilted her head in greeting, hoping that Arthur would let her pretend the last few moments didn’t happen.

Arthur stepped back, dropping his hands to his sides, and returned her greeting. “Morgana. You asked for me?”

“Oh yes.” How long ago was it? It felt just moments ago, but she knew she had dozed off. “I am sorry to inconvenience you.”

She saw Arthur’s face fall at that, and then his composure shattered. “To hell with inconvenience, Morgana. Guinevere said that you haven’t been eating, haven’t been sleeping properly-” Morgana tried to shake her head at that, but Arthur stepped forward, towering above her. She stood up herself, just to even the field, ignoring how she was still trembling. “Don’t you dare say you’re alright. I personally just saw how untrue that is.”

“I’m sorry.” Morgana lowered her head. What else was she supposed to say?

“I...” Arthur sagged and looked away. “You should go to Gaius. He may be able to help.”

“Gaius can’t help me.”

Arthur’s gaze snapped back to her again. “Why would you say that? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” She smiled, but anyone could see that it was forced. “Come here.” She grabbed Arthur’s arm and maneuvered him towards her bed, making him sit down beside her.

“Morgana, you’re scaring me.”

She looked at his face, full of compassion and kindness, and knew that Camelot couldn’t afford to lose him. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“You’re not going to the forest again.” It wasn’t a question, but Arthur answered it anyway, not with words but by how he closed off and looked away.

“Are you going to stop me?” He asked, defensive.

“No.” Morgana chuckled mirthlessly. “Don’t get me wrong. I want to. God, I want so badly to keep you here beside me, but that wouldn’t solve anything. Even if you don’t go- especially if you don’t go- there’s so much pain, so much misery. I don’t know what to do-”

Arthur cut her off by his hand on her arm. “Morgana. Is it about the dreams again?”

She looked at him with wide unseeing eyes, having seen life bleed out of him way too many times to retain her grip on reality. “Yes.”

She expected him to laugh, to ridicule her, but instead, he just nodded. He believed her. She could feel tears stinging her eyes again at that… she couldn’t lose him.

“Please,” she begged. She had no idea what for, but she had to make sure, had to warn him.

“I’ll be careful.” Morgana felt her tears spill when he promised her what she couldn’t even articulate. “I am glad you’re not asking me not to go, because I promised, but I’ll be careful, Morgana.”

She nodded, as he wiped her tears, anxiousness still having her heart in a chokehold. This was Arthur’s path, and she couldn’t change it for him. All she could do was tell him what she knew, and let him make his own choice.

“I trust him,” Arthur whispered, and her eyes flew open.

Him.

Morgana knew him, without ever meeting him, without Arthur ever saying a word about it. Green, like the very nature itself, like the forest that breathed around him. Morgana had sensed it. She had seen glittering blue eyes in her dreams, like the ocean you could drown in, turning into molten gold, brighter than the sun. She had seen him pull Arthur out of quicksand that was the ground under their feet, and at the same time push him back in, throwing dirt into the shallow grave, and she had felt what he stood for… hope.

Hope, and wretched despair.

“I trust him.” Arthur confessed again, and Morgana swallowed heavily, praying that this man was worthy of the sentiment.

Arthur reached his destination when the sun had already started its descent. He would’ve been here earlier, but he had been concerned for Morgana, never having seen her so disheveled and falling apart in all the years he had known her. Her warnings still lingered in his mind, but the anticipation of seeing Merlin again made him put everything else aside. He patted his horse, muttering an apology for how hard he had pushed it, riding continuously all day, before tying it to a tree.

He was late. But at least he was here.

He stepped into the forest, his steps sure. He remembered what Merlin said about reaching the lake, about how the forest would lead you towards it itself. So he thought about it, and started walking and soon enough he could see the woods thinning, giving way to a clearing ahead.

When he reached the clearing, the lake in sight, he stopped in his tracks and gasped.

The rays of setting sun glinted off the clear water, making it look like it was liquid fire. It was stunning, and Arthur couldn’t look away. The trees reflected in the water gave the impression of a whole other world under it; a dark, foreboding one, but enchanting nonetheless. He was so mesmerized that it took him a while to notice Merlin.

Merlin was sitting on a stone at the shore of the lake, his feet dipping into the water, the sun reflecting off his still frame seeming like a part of the eerie scenery. Untouchable.

Arthur shook his head fondly, took off his shoes and dropped his sword. Merlin seemed to not have noticed his presence, and he looked up, startled, when Arthur waded into the water. He watched, in silence, as Arthur climbed up and sat down beside him, scooting a little to make space. Arthur dipped his bare feet into the water, wriggling them a bit, and looked at Merlin.

“Hello.”

Merlin still seemed like he couldn’t believe his eyes. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

Arthur felt a little insulted, because, “I said I would, didn’t I?”

Merlin looked away, looking at his feet under the water, and repeated, “I thought you weren’t coming.”

He sounded far too distressed for a little delay in Arthur’s arrival, so Arthur wrapped his arm around him, pulling him closer. “I am sorry I am late. Morgana held me back.”

“Why are you here, Arthur?” Merlin’s voice was anguished, and Arthur didn’t know what he was missing.

“You asked me to come, remember? I keep my promises.”

He was startled by the wet chuckle Merlin let out at that, sagging and letting his head rest on Arthur’s shoulder. “You have to make everything so very difficult, don’t you?”

It wasn’t a question, and Arthur didn’t know how he was supposed to answer it. Something felt fragile about the moment, like if he prodded too much, Merlin might shatter. So he didn’t. He swallowed his guilt for making Merlin worry, staying close to him and staring at the hazy outline of their feet under the clear water. It was oddly peaceful, with Merlin so close, all pressed against him.

After a while, Merlin sighed, looking into the distance. Arthur noticed how engrossed he was and followed his gaze. The sun had set now, the moon illuminating the scene in its ethereal glow.

“What are you looking at?” Arthur asked, because he knew it was something his own eyes couldn’t see.

Merlin pulled away, and Arthur resisted the urge to protest. Instead, he let him turn and ask, hopeful. “Do you want to see?”

“Yes.” It was out of Arthur’s mouth before he could think. He chastised himself for being so overeager but Merlin smiled his first real smile of the day. It was totally worth feeling a little foolish.

“Close your eyes,” Merlin asked and Arthur dutifully obeyed. “Has no one ever told you not to trust someone like that?” Merlin asked, sounding oddly hurt, but his hands reached out to cup his face despite that, his fingers resting on his temple.

“ _Diegol cnytte, gewitte he yst_.”

Merlin pulled his hand away, and Arthur opened his eyes tentatively.

Colour. That was the first thing he noticed, how absolutely vibrant everything was. Merlin was ensconced in a green aura, bright and cool, his smile shaky. Arthur stared, at how it changed colours, rippled between the shades, and knew that given enough time he would be able to tell what Merlin was feeling just by looking at the colours surrounding him. He could’ve happily stared at him for hours, but Merlin nudged him, glancing at the lake in front of them, and Arthur looked away grudgingly.

The sight that greeted him was _almost_ as breathtaking. The water was clear blue and he could see fluorescent fish under it, swimming and sometimes leaping up from water, playful. The way they glowed with a silver ethereal light made their magical nature obvious. Above the water floated small butterfly like creatures- pixies, he remembered from the lessons with Gaius- flitting around. Arthur could swear he saw a sprite dive down and soak itself in the water, letting out a trilling laugh.

It felt like a whole new world, and Arthur couldn’t believe he wasn’t aware of it before. That he had ever thought all this could be evil.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, and Merlin laid his head back on his shoulder.

“They love the full moon, although recently they have had ample reasons to hate it.” Merlin didn’t seem to be talking to him, but Arthur rejoiced in this, in being joined to Merlin this way, seeing what he saw. He looked up, at the moon, and even that looked different than usual, closer. He couldn’t decide if it was his bias making it look like he could reach out and pluck it from the sky. Randomly, he wondered if Merlin would like that.

“This is what you always see?” Arthur asked, mesmerized. How different the world must be when you could see the truth of everything. Like this.

“It used to be better,” Merlin whispered, sad. “I see it decline, day after day.”

Arthur didn’t even want to imagine what that might feel like, he didn’t want to. When Merlin’s spell faded, his vision returning to normal, he almost whined in protest. He wanted to keep seeing everything in the same clarity for a while longer.

Forever, if he could.

But he was only human. He never thought he would dislike that word.

“What would you do, if you had the chance of saving them all?” Merlin asked, quiet. Arthur wasn’t sure if he was the target of the question, but he answered anyway.

“Then I would save them.”

“What if the price was too high? What if it was something you weren’t sure you could part with?”

“There’s no price too high, Merlin. Not if it means saving this.”

Merlin pulled away, and Arthur wondered if he had said the wrong thing. He grasped Merlin’s hand, stopping him from jumping off the rock. Merlin met his eyes, anguished, before saying, “Then you are a better man than I am, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur watched as Merlin pulled his hand away and jumped into the water, wading deeper into the lake. He was about to ask what was bothering him when a splash of water hit him on his face, surprising him. He shook his head, smiling when he heard Merlin’s laughter.

“You little…” Arthur laughed and followed, stepping into the water and reaching for Merlin, but a wave of water toppled him over again.

He laughed, at the return of playfulness to Merlin’s features as he got up and shook the water from his hair. “You’re cheating?”

“What? The Prince of Camelot cannot deal with a little water fight?.”

“I will show you what I can’t deal with.” Just as Merlin opened his mouth to speak, Arthur threw water at Merlin’s face and grinned at the way he grimaced and sputtered. While he was recovering from the shock Arthur managed to grab him and push him under water, laughing at his halfhearted struggles.

Merlin whispered something too quick for Arthur to understand and the water under him raised him up and made him fall back beneath the surface. Arthur lost his grip on Merlin in the process, and their laughter could be heard for miles, he was sure.

Arthur wondered how it all looked to Merlin, who could still see all the magical creatures too. He surprised himself with how much he yearned to see.

Their energy dwindled after a while, and their laughter easing, leaving a warm content glow in Arthur’s heart. He saw Merlin stride through the few steps separating them, holding his breath at how he looked. His face still had a lingering smile, the moonlight making him glow silver much like the magical fish from before and Arthur wondered if he had not suddenly gained back the sight without knowing because Merlin was enchanting. Arthur wouldn’t have been able to tear his gaze away if he tried.

Before he knew it, Merlin was close to him, close enough that his breath warmed the cool skin of Arthur’s throat, which bobbed as he swallowed heavily, wondering if this was it, this was the moment he had been waiting for.

He barely noticed when the silver light started fading, an eerie red light swathing the scene, reflecting off of Merlin's face. He stared, awed by Merlin’s beauty, by the way his eyes reflected the crimson hue.

“The eclipse has begun. It’s the night of the blood moon,” Merlin whispered, too close to him, closer than he had ever been. Eclipse… so that was what it was. “It’s time.”

There was something foreboding about Merlin’s tone, and Arthur was about to pull away, to question, when Merlin said, “I need you to know, I am really sorry.”

His eyes turned liquid gold, and Arthur forgot everything he was supposed to think about, drowning in them, drowning in Merlin. He clutched Merlin’s shoulders, hoping it would keep him steady and Merlin’s hands raised to cup his face. “I am sorry,” Merlin whispered again and Arthur didn’t know what he was apologizing for. He felt like he was free, floating… flying. With Merlin beside him he could do anything at all, and right now it felt like Merlin wasn’t just beside him… he was a part of him.

His body was getting heavy, and he felt himself sink to his knees, face barely above water, and still Merlin stayed there, following him down, and Arthur couldn’t ask for anything more. “I am so, so, sorry.” Merlin sobbed this time and Arthur became aware of the tears in those glowing eyes, breaking through the barrier of eyelids and trickling down. With his fading strength, he raised a hand and brushed them away. Merlin should never have to cry, never have to apologize. Arthur would do anything for him, he only had to ask.

But all that was too difficult to formulate, so he spoke the words that had been on the tip of his tongue for months now, too easy to grasp and voice, “I love you.”

Merlin gasped and jerked away, the gold of his eyes fading. “I love you,” Arthur repeated, distressed by the loss of proximity, grasping at Merlin’s wet sleeve.

Merlin gave in to his pull and hugged him, both half submerged in water. Merlin hid his head in Arthur’s neck and started sobbing. Arthur could feel his tears against his skin and he found that he had enough energy to raise his hands and hug back, soothing the shudders wracking Merlin’s frame.

Slowly, he came to realize Merlin was murmuring something. “I am sorry. So sorry. I can’t do this. I can’t.”

Arthur didn’t know how to calm him down, so he just said what he had said before, repeated his confession of love, hoping it would be enough. “It’s okay. I love you. It’s okay.”

Merlin pulled away and looked at the sky, the light turning into the natural white again- the eclipse must be fading- and screamed. “YOU HEAR ME? I CAN’T.” He slumped down and whispered, barely audible. “Find someone else to carry out your destiny.”

“Merlin.” Arthur grabbed Merlin by the shoulders and shook him. “Merlin, what’s wrong?” Because there was something wrong with the way Merlin couldn’t stop muttering, couldn’t stop crying.

Merlin jerked away from his touch, like it burned him, and stood up. Arthur stared helplessly at Merlin’s back, stung by the rejection.

“You need to leave,” Merlin said, and it sounded like a plea.

“I don’t understand…” Arthur stood up as well, reaching out. He could fix it, whatever it was… if only Merlin would let him.

His fingers barely brushed Merlin’s shirt as he whipped around, fury in his wet eyes. “You need to leave. Now.”

“Merlin…”

“Go! Go, before the consequences of my cowardice catch up with you.” Merlin backed away from him, his glare stopping him from following. “Go! Run! And never look back.”

With that Merlin turned away and ran, too fast for Arthur to follow, even though he tried. His feet felt like lead, even if the fog in his mind had started to clear. When he took a few steps, a wave- damn it Merlin- uprooted his feet, making him fall. By the time he stood back up, Merlin was nowhere to be found.

“NO!”

She screamed, jumping to her feet. Her burst of anger set the tree on her right on fire, and she let it burn, the taste of ash bitter on her tongue.

Pathetic.

Pathetic, cowardly, Merlin.

She should’ve expected it.

“No!” She protested, stepping down from her high throne and looking at the sky, the red moon turning back to white and taking with it the power that was within her grasp mere moments ago. “This can’t happen. It can’t.”

Desperately she tried to reach for it, hold it in her clutches, but it slipped through her fingertips like water, ever elusive. She never should’ve let someone else handle the situation, but the prophecy had said…

Stupid.

She had been so wrapped up in the pleasure of seeing the so-called Emrys twisting around his invisible bonds, fighting a destiny he so clearly couldn’t, that she had let it go on. Lost in the exquisite taste of self-hate of the only person whose power matched hers even slightly, she had ignored the existence of everything else. Things like mercy, and kindness, and morality mattered not to her, and she had forgotten that it wasn’t the same for others.

She screamed again, seeing the gates of Avalon close, the blood moon fading right in front of her eyes. This couldn’t happen. She wouldn’t let this happen.

Emrys would pay for this.

She reached out with every eye in the forest- for she could see everything, feel everything; that was what was meant by being the High Priestess. She was everything. (And how long do you watch yourself die, over and over again, before you learn to stop caring.)

She needed more energy, needed to find him, so she stripped away the life essence of more of the forest, ignoring the shrill screams of the smaller fae who couldn’t bear losing so much- it was all hers, it was all _her_ \- and widened her view, reaching closer and closer to the bright, unbearable, inexcusable green, pulsing in spite of all of her efforts to dim it, taunting her.

She found him.

He was standing supported by a tree, eyes closed, almost in a trance. She could feel his misery, despite the distance, because the forest was grieving with him. It fed into her fury. How dare he? How dare he lose everything they had been waiting for… and have the audacity to be sorrowful?

She had to give him credit though. He wasn’t running. He recognized that there was nowhere to run.

She grinned, her steps taking her towards her prey. Too long had she let him run around, hoping the rumors were true. She could bear the presence of someone powerful, as long as it meant they served their purpose: kill Uther’s son. She would’ve loved to do it herself, take fierce pleasure in his life-thread snapping, but she was willing to be magnanimous. The prophecies said Emrys would be the one to restore the balance of magic, and she could lower her ego enough to let him do his job, because in the end, the victory would still be hers, no matter whose hands it came from.

But he had failed. And now she had no use of him. She would enjoy draining his power, relishing the thought of feeling that vivaciousness under her skin. And then she would latch on to everyone who had helped him along the way. They would all pay, they had sealed their fate the day they chose his side instead of hers. The tang of loss was already being replaced by the anticipation of a hunt, and she quickened her feet.

Almost as an afterthought, she let her magic weave into the trees near Merlin, the vines wrapping around his frame, immobilizing him. A deranged smile crept onto her face, her eyes twinkling, as she felt his panic… and his resignation.

Soon, he would come to know what it meant to defy her.


	5. Phase 5: Full Moon.

Arthur stayed there, half submerged in water, dizzy with everything that had happened. He lost track of the time, the moon shining down on the water like nothing had changed. And then, between one moment and the next, he blinked and the lake was gone. He was sitting on his knees in a small clearing in a perfectly ordinary part of the forest.

Instead of surprise, he felt a sense of crushing loss.

The magic had taken back its access. Merlin had taken back his access. He wasn’t welcome anymore.

That, more than anything else, made him get up on his feet and turn around, knowing he had to leave. That’s what Merlin had asked him to do. He was trying to make sense of what had happened but all he could remember were bright golden eyes and a very welcome and pleasant sensation of drowning. A part of his mind- a part he didn’t want to acknowledge- niggled that there was something wrong. That all wasn’t what it seemed to be, but he deliberately ignored it.

Merlin wouldn’t hurt him.

‘ _Human sacrifice_.’ Gaius’s voice from weeks ago filtered into his mind but he shook his head. That couldn't be it.

He had told Merlin he loved him, and instead of accepting his love, Merlin had decided he wasn’t worth his time and pushed him away. The least he could do was respect his wishes. He wished his feet didn’t feel as heavy as they did. He wished he could still feel the wetness of his clothes, evidence of what had happened, proof that he had not imagined it.

He wished Merlin would call out from a tree branch and call him a Prat.

Arthur forced himself to take one step after another, not knowing where he was going, not knowing where he wanted to go. He wondered if the forest would lead him out, now that Merlin wasn’t actively guiding it, or whether he would continue walking in circles, vulnerable to attack by some stray wild animal. Arthur wasn’t sure if he had the strength, or will, to defend himself at the moment.

He was startled out of his musings when he heard a distinct gasp. He lifted his head and looked into a familiar face.

“You!” Her eyes widened in surprise.

“You! I know you. I have seen you before.”

“You’re alive.” She placed her hand on her mouth, shaking her head in disbelief. Her eyes darted up to the sky, and then back at him. “How are you still alive?”

“You were the one who tried to put a glamour on me.” Arthur finally placed her delicate features. “Sophie, was it?”

“Where’s Merlin?” She tried to reach out and touch his arm but he jerked back, remembering that not all Sidhe were safe. Not all of them were like Merlin.

“I don’t know what you want from me, but you ought to move out of the way. I have to go.”

“Answer me.” Her eyes flashed gold for a second before fading, her distress too evident- probably messing with her ability to do magic. “Where is he? Where’s Merlin?”

Arthur felt the ache in his chest increase at his name, and he shook his head. “I don’t know. He sent me away.”

“He… he let you go,” she spoke in dismay. “That _fool_.”

He wanted to argue but she wasn’t listening. She paced around, rubbing her hand on her face, trying to calm herself. “I should’ve known. Should’ve known he was too spineless to go through with the Harvest. And now it’s too late.” She sighed, hanging her head. “She is going to be furious.”

“Please,” Arthur interrupted, needing to understand. Merlin wouldn’t answer him, but maybe this girl would. “What is going on?”

Her head snapped up, barely restrained fury and disdain in her eyes. “What's going on is that you should be dead. But Merlin is a sentimental fool.”

“Merlin?”

“Yes. And now he will pay. We will all pay for his weakness. She is not going to let it go.”

Arthur gaped. He didn’t want to believe what she was implying, but Merlin’s warnings resounded in his brain. Along with Gaius’s: ‘ _They control the flow of magic through the world, and can twist all perception._ ’

No.

He wouldn’t believe it.

If Merlin wanted his devotion, all he had to do was ask. He would give it freely. ‘ _Unless they are power hungry. In that case, they could crave more than that._ ’

He battled the voices of reason in his head. He tried to reconcile the voice screaming _evidence_ , with the image of Merlin’s easily given smiles. The memory of him saving the unicorn, saving Arthur. The image of Merlin hugging him and crying on his shoulder.

The memory of Merlin pushing him away.

“What do you mean he will pay? Is he in danger?”

The girl laughed, hysterical. “She is anything but merciful. It won’t be pretty, but I can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. He has doomed us all.”

Arthur looked back from where he had come, wondering where Merlin was. If he could warn him somehow. Before he could decide on anything, the beautiful Fae was standing close to him, her face right in front of his, and she grasped his shoulders.

“Listen to me. It’s done. There’s nothing you can do. The only thing left is to honour his decision. Don’t let his fall- all of our fall- be for naught.”

Arthur shook his head. He didn’t want Merlin to fall. Not if he could help it.

“If she catches you, she would kill you just in spite. Go away, Prince Arthur.”

“You keep saying she. Who is she?” He asked, stalling. He needed more time to understand, to make sense of the moment.

She jerked back, struggling against something. “We don’t take her name,” she whispered, and Arthur felt a growing dread. He remembered the voice in his head, the one that lingered since childhood. The one Merlin saved him from long ago, and maybe saved again now.

“Who is she?” He asked again, insistent.

“Ni…Nimueh.” She looked up, determined, her lower lip trembling and the word coming out shaky. Arthur nodded, opening his mouth to say thank you.

That’s when he heard it. A distant scream. A scream of someone obviously in pain. Arthur’s heart stopped because even if he had never heard it in distress before, the voice was agonizingly familiar.

He jerked his head towards where the sound came from, and looked back at the girl- Sophie or something- and found her with both her hands against her mouth, worried and scared.

“Go!” She pointed in the opposite direction, the direction that should lead out of the forest. Arthur should’ve been grateful- it would save him from getting lost in the dangerous woods- and he took a step.

Another scream permeated the silence, longer and more painful, and Arthur turned and started running towards it before he could even think, ignoring the shaking head of the girl, her calls of ‘Arthur’ behind him.

Merlin was in pain.

If he was to believe the Sidhe girl, Merlin was being punished because of _him._

Arthur could not let that happen. He had to do something.

He ran, not thinking about what almost happened tonight, what Merlin had planned to do- he saved him, he saved him, and that’s what Arthur was going to focus on right now. But a small voice insisted Arthur consider what, or who, Merlin was saving him from. Ruthlessly, he quashed that voice. He could deal with it once he knew Merlin was safe.

The screams were intermittent, but growing louder, as Arthur ran through the trees towards it, his heart beating faster with every step. He needed to reach him before he was too late, and he ducked through the branches, ignoring how they ripped his clothes. Vaguely he realized he had run like this in these same woods once before, a long time ago, but back then he was running away from something.

Today, he had something to run towards.

Finally, he could hear voices coming, from a few paces in front of him, and he hid behind a tree to gauge the situation. He peeked from behind it and had to forcibly restrain himself from reaching out.

Merlin looked like a mess.

He was tied to a tree by what looked like vines wrapped around his torso. He wasn’t even struggling to get out, but Arthur could appreciate why. He looked paler than he had ever seemed to Arthur, his clothes charred, and there were burn marks on whatever exposed skin Arthur could see. He was sagging, barely holding himself together, and Arthur suspected physical injuries were least of his concerns at the moment.

“… pathetic. You have let us all down, you realize?” A sweet saccharine voice, full of scarcely suppressed menace, spoke and a shiver ran through Arthur. He knew this voice.

“I am sorry,” Merlin mumbled, barely audible.

“Emrys.” She spat the word out, like it disgusted her, and Arthur had to restrain his gasp.

He knew that name too. It was the name that dying sorcerer had taken… the name of Camelot’s destruction.

“I had always held out hope we could join our powers, and rule together. Arthur Pendragon’s sacrifice would’ve brought life to all of us… and instead you chose to be weak.”

She stepped closer and suddenly Arthur could see her, clad in a flowing red gown, her hair done up in an intricate braid. She exuded beauty, but her face… that’s what made Arthur’s breath quicken. Her face showed hatred.

“I don’t have any use for you now.” She twisted her mouth in disgust and then extended her hands.

“No! Don’t!” Merlin protested, fighting weakly.

She laughed. “Oh! This is what you fight against.” She brought her hands together in front and a ball of white light accumulated in her hand. Merlin shook his head, muttering a litany of no. Arthur was confused until he noticed the tree at his back becoming black, as well as the ones around him.

She was draining them of energy.

“You do realize you are the one to blame for this, yes? If you had been less selfish, they could be alive. Without Arthur, it is only a matter of time anyway. I am just speeding up the process, letting them out of their misery.”

She kept increasing the ball of light in her hand and then flung it towards Merlin, unceremoniously. Arthur thought he would have nightmares about this moment for ages: how her lips formed a pleasured smile, how Merlin’s blood-curdling scream rang through the forest, and how she laughed at it, all the while looking like a picture of serenity.

She started forming another energy attack, and by the way Merlin was panting, his breath coming in gasps, Arthur knew he wouldn’t be able to survive it.

“Goodbye, Emrys,” she said, and Merlin nodded, accepting his fate.

Arthur could think of only one thing to distract her. He jumped out from behind the tree, shouting “Stop.”

He deliberately didn’t look at Merlin, ignoring his shocked gasp. His eyes were trained on the ball of lightning in the woman’s- Nimueh’s- hand, which was pulsing with energy, but was, thankfully, away from Merlin.

“Oh. What is this?” Her voice was delighted and he cringed, not letting himself be intimidated. “Arthur Pendragon to the rescue?”

She laughed. It would be a beautiful sound except for how it made Arthur’s very skin crawl. “Oh, Merlin. I have to give it to you. This is fantastic. The man you were supposed to kill, comes to save the killer. You really have trained him well.”

Arthur tried to ignore her words, his breath evening out when he saw the energy in her palms dissipating and she waved it away. At least Merlin was safe, for a while. He made the mistake of glancing at Merlin, who was staring at him in horror, shaking his head a little. _Idiot_ , he had not looked even half as terrified when his own life was about to end. Quickly, he looked away, before his courage gave up.

“Let him go.” He suffused as much authority in his voice as he could, but Nimueh just smirked.

“And why would I obey the orders of Uther’s son?” She flipped her hair, stepping towards him.

Arthur stopped himself from retreating and stood his ground. “Because I am offering you an exchange. Surely I am of more value.” He made his tone haughty, and felt a mixture of triumph and dread as she pretended to contemplate.

“I have a better idea.” She smiled, sinister. “Merlin here can learn what it really means to be Sidhe. Let us show him what he failed to do, hmm?”

Arthur swore, reaching for his sword. It was meaningless to give himself up if it wouldn’t even help Merlin. But before he could even take it out, it flew away from his grasp. He lunged for it, but found his feet anchored to the ground. Looking down he realized that there were vines wrapped around his legs, similar to the ones he could see wrapped around Merlin’s torso.

“Nimueh.” He heard Merlin call out, his voice a gasp. “Your fight is with me. Don’t touch him.”

“You are wrong. My fight, Emrys, is with Uther Pendragon, and everything he stands for. Why would I give up the chance to take revenge for all the wrongs he has done to us?”

“Arthur is not his father.” Merlin was pleading and Arthur was frankly insulted.

“Shut up! Merlin.”

Merlin glared at him. “You! If you weren’t such a clotpole you would’ve known not to come back here.”

“I am trying to save your life here, Merlin. Be a little grateful.”

“I don’t need saving.” Merlin looked ridiculously self-righteous and Arthur scoffed. Of course he needed saving. He was tied to a bloody tree and burnt to almost a crisp.

“I am sorry to interrupt your perfectly domestic moment but the night is almost over. It’s not the Blood Moon anymore, but I hope Avalon still accepts your Harvest, Arthur. Otherwise, I will try not to be very disappointed.” She smiled, stepping close and Arthur braced himself for whatever was coming.

“Nimueh…” Merlin shouted, but she ignored him, her feet bringing him closer until she was close enough that the blacks of her irises were visible to Arthur. “Nimueh. Stop. Please.”

Arthur was frozen, unable to move away, unable to tear away his gaze, as her eyes turned fiery gold, swimming in his vision, hypnotizing.

“You want to kiss me, don’t you? Kiss me, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur felt dizzy for a moment, swaying towards her, and then Merlin’s cry of ‘ _Arthur_ ,’ permeated his foggy thoughts and he jerked his head back. “Fuck you.”

Nimueh stepped back, shock evident in her eyes. Her eyes glowed golden again, and again, but Arthur didn’t feel any magical pull. By the look on her face, he knew that he had upset her plans somehow, and he tried not to feel hope rise in his chest.

She turned away, pacing angrily. “How?” She looked accusingly at Merlin, and then at Arthur. “How is that possible?” Her calm façade was fading, revealing a crazed, wretched person underneath. “How can it not work?” She screamed, the wind shrieking in the trees as a reaction to her outburst.

Arthur chanced a glance at Merlin, who looked as confused as he was, but blessedly alive, still breathing, and he let out a relieved sigh. Their eyes met, and he nodded, comforting Merlin wordlessly. Maybe they could fix it after all.

Nimueh noticed their silent exchange and froze.

“Oh!” She exclaimed. “Oh. Of course.” She shook her head, the hint of madness evident in her voice. “Clever Merlin. Very clever. I had no idea you could play this so underhanded.”

Arthur mirrored the confusion on Merlin’s face, speaking when he didn’t. “He didn’t do anything.”

She didn’t hear him, muttering to herself. “I can’t use glamour to make him fall in love with me… oh this is one for the myths, well done, Emrys. I can’t do that because he is already in love.”

Merlin’s jaw dropped, and Arthur suddenly wanted to escape the place even more than when he was facing certain death. He looked at the ground, wishing it would swallow him, when Nimueh continued, mocking. “With _you_!”

Arthur could see Merlin shake his head from the corner of his vision. “That’s not possible. It’s not. You’re lying.”

“Quiet,” Nimueh yelled, clenching her fists. The vines tightened around Merlin, wrapping around his throat and Arthur jerked against his restraints, wishing he could run his sword through her heart. “And now, I can’t even have my fun. You dare take what’s mine, _mine_ , and make it inaccessible.”

“Please,” Merlin croaked through the constriction against his throat. “Let him go.”

“That’s not all, is it?” She strode closer to Merlin, running her fingertips over Merlin’s face, who was too immobile to move away from the touch. “It’s worse than that. You...” She wiped the tear drop on his cheek. “You are in love with him too. How adorable,” she taunted, her voice full of venom.

“Please,” Merlin murmured again, and she threw her head back and laughed hysterically.

“If I can’t have his essence, I can at least enjoy ripping him apart in front of your very eyes. Tasting your misery would not be the same as the sheer power of the Harvest, but I don’t think I will be very disappointed.”

Merlin thrashed. Arthur stared, hoping Merlin would look at him, would see the forgiveness in his eyes. Merlin had not protested to her claim, which could mean only one thing; Merlin loved him too. Arthur thought that if he died with that knowledge, it wasn’t a bad way to go.

“In the end, Arthur Pendragon,” Nimueh stalked towards him again, gathering a ball of energy in her hands again, “all you’re good for, is some entertainment.”

Merlin swallowed, the movement painful because of the vice around his neck, and tried to think past the panic overwhelming him.

Why was Arthur here?

His senses were overwhelmed by the sheer black hole that was Nimueh’s presence, the tang of her hatred bitter on his tongue, overpowering everything else. He had not even felt the vibrance of Arthur’s presence before he had jumped out of the shadows and offered himself in exchange for Merlin’s life.

As if that was even a possibility. As if Merlin would ever allow it.

No matter how many times Merlin called him an idiot, he knew Arthur was actually a remarkably intelligent man. He must have figured out what Merlin had been about to do, what he had almost done. Oh God, he had almost…

And yet, foolishly, Arthur was trying to rescue him.

“Love.” Nimueh had said, and Merlin wanted to rage, wanted to burn down the entire universe for the sheer tragedy of this moment. He had recoiled from the words when Arthur had spoken them, heavy under the influence of his glamour, but now… now with the very proof of it.

Merlin felt gutted.

When Nimueh went on twisting the knife, thriving on Merlin’s misery, and announced his own feelings towards Arthur, Merlin bent his head and gave up. It was true, and it was also not. Who tries to kill the one they love? What kind of monster even contemplates it?

Surrounded by the bitter tang of Nimueh’s hate, reluctantly, he tried to feel something different. If these were the last moments he got to live, he didn’t want to waste them. Selfish as it was, he wanted to feel Arthur.

He looked over at him, knowing he made a picture of remorse and dread, and let his senses battle through the darkness to reach…

Vibrant crimson light, with streaks of gold like Arthur’s hair, curling around his magic, protectively. There was worry pulsing in Arthur’s heartbeat but a tear slipped from Merlin’s eyes when he realized that the worry wasn’t for Arthur’s sake, it was for Merlin’s. And worst of all… adoration, love, overpowering the small lingering taste of suppressed betrayal.

Merlin wanted to jerk his consciousness back, but the pain of feeling it was so much better than the knowledge he wouldn’t experience it ever again. It was better this way.

But then the dread in Arthur’s thoughts increased, and Merlin realized he had not noticed what had happened in the last few minutes. When he looked at Nimueh- where Arthur’s terrified eyes were trained- his heart sank.

She was draining the forest again, accumulating pure energy in her palms. Terror, the likes of which he had never known, gripped him as he saw it growing. It was more than any mortal could take. Merlin shook his head, a litany of ‘ _no_ ’ and “ _please_ ” falling from his lips but Nimueh didn’t hear him. He tried to summon his magic, but it was cut off, he was cut off, he had no access to it at the moment. Clouds were rumbling, a storm gathering, whether from his uncontrolled magic or Nimueh’s he wasn’t sure, but it didn’t help anyone.

Arthur’s life was in danger, and there was nothing Merlin could do.

“Goodbye, Arthur.” Nimueh was looking at Merlin when she said it, and Merlin knew who she was trying to punish. It wasn’t fair.

“NO! PLEASE,” Merlin cried.

“I love it when you beg… but sadly, I like breaking you more.”

She gathered the light in one palm, and Merlin closed his eyes, reaching out to feel Arthur’s presence, wrapping his consciousness around it, and he was distantly aware that he was entwined enough that he would feel all of Arthur’s pain.

He wouldn’t survive it if Arthur died.

But he guessed, under the circumstances, he didn’t really want to.

He braced himself for the agony, so was shocked when none came, instead he heard a cry, further away than he was expecting. The sky groaned, and he heard a yelp that couldn’t have come from anyone but Nimueh. He snapped his eyes open, finding Nimueh correcting herself from where she had stumbled, and then she turned around. Merlin couldn’t see her glare, but he could feel everything around them cower in the face of her wrath.

Shockingly, Merlin wasn’t the target of it. Neither was Arthur. Whoever it was, Merlin couldn’t see them, because Nimueh was blocking his vision, so Merlin reluctantly withdrew from Arthur’s core and felt around.

Yellow. Weak and faded, but pure yellow without the usual dirty ochre feel to it.

He gasped.

He could feel the fear in her heart, the trembling in her legs, and yet the determination with which she was standing overwhelmed Merlin. _Sophia._ What on earth did she think she was doing?

“Let them go, N-Nimueh.” Her fear spiked when she spoke the name, as did her resolve.

Nimueh stepped away from Merlin, threateningly, and he finally saw Sophia’s figure, small in front of the overwhelming presence of the High Priestess, but standing ground. He had never seen her look this fierce.

“You!” Nimueh spat. “Little child, who grew up begging me for scraps, after her father withered away begging me for much of the same. _You_ , dare defy me?” There was a hysterical disbelief mingling with her fury.

“I am not my father. I won’t let you do to them what you did to him.”

“What I did to him?” Nimueh laughed, and the trees shook from the cruelty in it. “He begged me for it. Begged me to give you every last ounce of his power… I was just doing him a favour.”

Merlin felt a surge of sympathy for Sophia He had never thought of what made her so bitter, so determined to prove herself, so reluctant to get any help. He was finally beginning to understand.

“You killed him.” Sophia’s voice was shaking, but she was drawing her hands up, moving determinedly until both of the women were circling each other.

“I harvested his power to use for something more important. Your father understood that.”

“And that’s what you’re going to do to Merlin? To Arthur?” Sophia was right in front of Merlin now, and if he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought she was shielding him.

“Arthur… no. He is going to die because they were both stupid enough to fall for the farce Merlin was supposed to create.” Merlin swallowed bile at the words. “And after that… I will do to Merlin exactly the same thing. Gorge on his power.”

“You monster…” This was Arthur, his disgust evident.

“I won’t let you.” Merlin wanted to rage at what he saw Sophia was doing. Her hands behind her back were accumulating the same energy Nimueh had- but a weaker fledgling blue- as she kept her talking.

“What are you going to do? Cry? Beg? Like your father did?” Nimueh taunted and Merlin screamed Sophia’s name, trying to stop her from taking a step that would surely be towards her death.

It was of no use.

Sophia let out a harsh cry, her control slipping, the memory of her father close enough to the surface that Merlin could feel the love, sadness, loss, through his desperate attempts to grab at her. She flung her ball of energy at Nimueh, strong enough to have grievously injured a human – and oh, that’s what had distracted Nimueh before- but Nimueh merely raised her hand and absorbed all of it in her palm.

Sophia fell to her feet, her aura even fainter than it had been a minute ago.

“That’s the best you can do?” Nimueh grinned savagely before she turned the same palm and gathered a glowing silver light in it. “Too bad. I liked you. But you had to side with these wretches.”

And she threw the energy pulse at Sophia.

Her scream rang through the woods, loud and agonized, as she shuddered on the ground and stilled.

Merlin reached out, desperately, for any evidence of life in her, but Nimueh had already turned around. His fists were clenched, and he frantically searched until he found the small ember of her core and sighed. She was alive… just barely. He tried to feed it energy, but he was still cut off. He had no idea what Nimueh had done. Sophia had been able to do magic, why couldn’t he?

But she was the gatekeeper of all magic in the land. She could close the doors if she so desired.

Merlin was engrossed in ensuring Sophia’s survival so he barely heard the hum of energy- and the screams of the Fae around as their life force was drained- and realized it wasn’t over. He still had another loss to bear before it would be over for him.

Protest was futile, and yet he found himself opening his lips to appeal to Nimueh’s conscience, her non-existent mercy. He risked a glance at Arthur and found him transfixed- not looking at Nimueh, no, instead the idiot was looking at Merlin, his eyes drinking him in, absolving him of blame.

As if Merlin could ever forgive himself for this.

A touch on his bound ankle jerked him out of his thoughts. Skin touching his skin. Faint hum of magic, lingering at the edge of his reach the way it had not been since Nimueh entered the clearing. He looked down and found Sophia grasping his ankle, looking up at him, barely hanging onto consciousness.

“Please…” Her lips formed the word, even though no voice came out.

He looked at her in confusion for a second before recoiling in revulsion. No!

“Take it,” she mouthed and Merlin looked at her aghast. How… how could she ever suggest such a thing? He tried to get a feel of her and all he could sense was desperation. “Please.” This time, there was a choked broken sound accompanying it, and a plea written on her face, breaking into despair when he shook his head.

And yet, the hint of magic was right there, tempting. She was offering it to him, begging for him to take it, and who was he to deny someone the choice of what to die for. Even if he hated himself later, he could give her that.

And maybe, just maybe, they could all get out of this alive.

He stared at Arthur again, who was still looking at him, not even fighting to get out, and closed his eyes. Reaching for Sophia’s magic felt like trying to catch moonlight… it was shimmering and real, but something he lacked any ability to hold. He focused, reaching out again, and he felt Sophia’s touch get stronger around his ankle, the yellow glow of her magic condensing into a gold thread which Merlin could reach out and hold.

And tug.

There was too little power left. If he took it, she wouldn't survive, so he opened his eyes and gestured, with his head, hoping she would understand. She looked confused, dizzy with pain, but then understanding flitted into her eyes.

She placed her other palm on the ground and suddenly, the world came alive.

Merlin flinched first, because alive as it was, it was in agony. So much pain and death, because of the ruthless way Nimueh had manipulated it, but he had no time to grieve. Nimueh had a formidable energy gathered in her palm and Merlin pulled at the thread, whispering hushed apologies as he drew strength from the forest around him, Sophia’s magic acting as a conduit, and willed his bonds to relieve him. The tree resisted for a moment, but Merlin let his magic stroke it- they weren’t ropes, they were alive, and could be reasoned with- and slowly they unwound, letting him stand on his feet again. The ones around his feet helped him until he was stable, supporting him and Merlin knew something was different in this moment.

He was himself… but he was also more. For the first time, since he had been born, he _felt_ like Emrys.

Too easily, he could defend his actions, and draw ruthlessly, like Nimueh did, but he spared a moment he didn’t have and let some magic curl around Sophia’s core, protecting her from the worst of his onslaught. Then he looked up at the Priestess and suddenly felt no mercy.

“Stop,” he ordered, and the skies growled with his rage.

She turned towards him and sent the energy pulse towards him. But he was not a mortal shell right now, he was the entire forest under his skin, and there was one thing that nature did best- it took everything you threw at it, and gave it back tenfold.

So it was the easiest thing in the world to hold that energy in front of him, and let the years of suffering of the Fae, the sorrow of all the dead because of Nimueh’s greed, feed into it, and fling it back.

Nimueh screamed.

And the winds laughed.

“You should not have tried to kill Arthur.” He was pronouncing her sentence, but was it really his sentence? ‘ _You should not have hurt so many of us.’_ He didn’t speak it, but he could hear anyway. _‘You should not have corrupted the core of magic.’_ The ground rumbled and shook, and Merlin didn’t even have to see the look of terror in Nimueh’s eyes. _‘You should not have killed my father.’_ He knew they weren’t his words… but they were his words. They needed to be spoken… she needed to know her offences, before she faced her judgement.

“And for that… you will pay.”

He thrust his hand up at the sky, and the clouds which had already gathered became darker, fiercer, a storm swirling inside them, inside _him,_ waiting for Merlin’s order.

Merlin’s eyes fixated on Nimueh, and said, _yes_.

A bolt of lightning fell where his hand pointed, where Nimueh lay, stronger than any natural lightning strike could be.

He saw her mouth forming a cry, heard her scream, and then fell to his knees as silence rang in the aftermath of it all. There was just charred ground where Nimueh had been standing a moment ago.

Nobody spoke for a long time. Gently, he pried Sophia’s hand away from his ankle, tentatively feeling for her life-signs. He sighed when he felt it: feeble but still there, her heart still beating.

He looked up then, reluctantly, his eyes searching out for Arthur even as he was half convinced he wouldn’t be there, and even if he was, he would be horrified and disgusted with Merlin. Merlin had been trying to show Arthur beauty of magic for months, and in just a few hours, he had shown him the ugliest parts of it. He had tried to kill him with it, and then later, he had killed another using it.

But Arthur, when Merlin managed to meet his gaze, was none of those things. He stood, his mouth open, his face shocked, but even as he watched, a smile started stretching Arthur’s lips, a well of love and relief outpouring from him and Merlin couldn’t help but smile in response.

The relief was short lived though, and the smile on Merlin’s lips morphed into a cry almost instantly.

He didn’t have to plunge into the non-corporeal world to hear the snap, to hear the roar of the Dragon, and the cries of the things connected with magic. The threads holding magic together were breaking… and he could feel every single one of them.

The Priestess was dead. There was nothing anchoring the magic anymore, and his world was crumbling around him.

The laws of Old Religion were harsh, and he had played with them recklessly. Now it was time to face the consequences.

Arthur stood stunned as he watched the lightening incinerate the woman standing right in front of him. He almost didn’t feel it when the vines around his feet let go. Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, and when he spoke it felt like the heavens were speaking through him. He looked nothing like the man he had grown to know… grown to love.

And then, the lightening faded, and what remained was Merlin, and nothing in the world could’ve stopped the grin from spreading on his face.

They had won.

Maybe he ought to have felt scared, because the sheer power the sorcerer in front of him had just demonstrated was more than Uther’s worst nightmares. There was nothing quite like it, and no sword, no army, could stand against it. Arthur knew that, had witnessed the destructive power of magic with his own eyes, and yet, when he searched in his heart, he couldn’t find anything other than overwhelming relief, a tentative hope, and love.

Merlin smiled back at him, and he took a step forward wanting to be near him, to touch him, to reassure himself they had both survived, but then he heard Merlin scream and collapse to the ground.

“Merlin!”

He was by his side in a second, crouching down on the ground. He tried to touch Merlin’s shoulder, tried to get him out of whatever trance he was in, but Merlin convulsed on the ground, his mouth forming unintelligible words.

Arthur moved his ear closer, to hear what he was saying, and jerked back when he could make out only one word. _Sorry_.

Merlin was apologizing.

Arthur couldn’t take it anymore, so he shook Merlin harshly, trying to get him out of wherever he had gone and back to the present, back to Arthur.

“Merlin.”

Merlin stopped shaking, and looked at him, his gaze unseeing. “Arthur?” he asked and Arthur breathed in relief at the recognition in his voice.

“What’s wrong, Merlin?”

“You need to leave. You need to go. You can’t be here, not right now.”

Arthur shook his head, but he doubted Merlin noticed it. Merlin kept looking past Arthur’s shoulder with unfocused eyes. Arthur had listened to Merlin once and left, but he wouldn’t do it again. He wouldn’t leave Merlin.

“What’s happening?” Merlin had kept his composure even while Nimueh’s fire burned him. To see him fall apart like this made dread coil in Arthur’s gut the likes of which he had never known.

“I was trying to save them… but I failed them. I failed you. I am sorry.”

“Merlin. Merlin, please. You are scaring me.”

He pulled Merlin until he was propped against a tree. Merlin looked around, seeing the things Arthur couldn’t hope to see, and trembled. Arthur couldn’t get a word out of him, his face ashen, and he felt helpless in consoling him. Maybe he was asking for the wrong thing; so he grabbed Merlin’s hand and placed it on his temple… imploring.

“Merlin… let me see.”

And he did.

Arthur wanted to recoil the minute Merlin let him in. Where there was brightness and life just a few hours ago, now… everything was scorched. The first thing he registered were the cries. And then he saw it as well, the crumbling of the magic world, the dying lights, the magic bleeding out of wounds too big to heal.

He couldn’t stand it. He flinched away from it after just a few seconds, realizing there were tears dripping from his eyes. He looked at Merlin, hugging his chest and realized Merlin couldn’t just shut his eyes, couldn’t stop it. He cupped his face and waited until Merlin’s eyes became a little focused.

“What happened?”

“I killed her.” Merlin rocked himself. “I killed her and I didn’t fulfill the prophecy. And now the anchor is broken, and it’s all falling apart.”

“Prophecy?” Merlin was lost again so Arthur shook his shoulder, asking again. “What prophecy?”

“Arthur’s sacrifice…” Merlin answered, haltingly. “The once and future king’s sacrifice to save magic.” He clutched at Arthur’s clothes as he tried to withdraw. “But I couldn’t Arthur. I couldn’t… I tried. I am sorry. I am so sorry.”

“If you could save them all, would you?” Arthur heard himself repeating the question Merlin had asked, and then he looked at Merlin’s bowed head, lips still mumbling apologies, to him, to everyone else. He had said something about the price, and Arthur had not known what he meant back then. He knew now, and his answer was still the same.

He would.

“Merlin…” He tilted his face up again. And then bent towards him, only to have Merlin read his intention and scramble back.

“No! No!”

“Merlin…. Do it. I am just one man and this…” he looked around, remembering the destruction just beyond his vision. “It’s not a heavy price at all. Please.”

“I don’t want it, Arthur. Please just go. Leave us to our fate.”

“If I leave, if I do as you ask, will you die too?” It was a rhetorical question, but the agony on Merlin’s face when he looked up was answer enough.

“I’ve earned it, Arthur. We all have. We have killed so many, and it had to come back to us eventually.”

“No!” Arthur shook his head. He kept his hand steady on Merlin’s shoulder, trying to make him stay focused. “You can’t make that decision for me, it’s not your choice. I am not going to let them all die.” Arthur looked around at forest, at the creatures he couldn’t see but could still feel for, and then back at the man who had opened his eyes to the reality of it all. “I am not going to let you die.”

“Please, Arthur. Please… I can’t take it.”

But Arthur shook his head, knowing Merlin would do the same thing for him, had already done the same thing for him. Arthur had been ready to die beside Merlin’s side, had willingly stepped into a fight he knew he couldn’t win on the off chance that he might buy Merlin some time; the odds had only gotten better since then.

“Idiot,” Arthur whispered fondly, his heart hammering in his chest. He shuffled closer, holding Merlin’s face in his hands again. “You’re not taking it. I am offering.”

And with that, he didn’t give Merlin time to pull away, and pressed their lips together.

He felt them tremble beneath his, cold, but Arthur kissed him, gentle and soft until Merlin whimpered and lurched closer, his fingers entangling in Arthur’s hair. They separated for air, and Arthur felt tears on his face, not knowing whether they were Merlin’s or his own.

“Prat,” Merlin whispered against his lips and then added. “I love you.” Before kissing him again.

This time, it was different. This time, Arthur knew Merlin was taking what he was offering, feeling his vision darkening, his body becoming weightless, and he fell into oblivion with his arms wrapped around Merlin, and his lips pressed against his.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad way to go.

Freya held onto to Hunith’s weak hand as the world around them tinged red. The Blood moon asked for too much, and Merlin - gentle, kind Merlin - had taken it upon himself to bleed for it. He had to sacrifice his own heart, in order to make sure the heart of magic-world kept beating. Freya’s heart ached as she watched the skies, knowing that any moment now, her best friend would be making a decision he wouldn’t be able to live with.

Oh, he wouldn’t die… but Freya knew surviving and living were different things.

She wondered if she would ever get to see him smile again, open and genuine - his smiles were already rare, but she cherished them every time - and she had to close her eyes against the sharp ache that thought brought.

“Oh, Merlin.” Hunith whispered, low and pained, and Freya knew she grieved with her too.

They were both sitting outside, Hunith barely keeping herself upright even while leaning heavily against a tree. Freya tightened her hold on Hunith’s hand, grateful for how she had wrapped Freya in her soft beige aura, stable like the ground under their feet, despite how tumultuous their future looked.

Both women watched the eclipse, waiting for the most important man in their lives to make his decision, and knowing they would try and put him back together no matter how badly he shattered. It was only fair, for he had given them pieces of his soul for longer than they could remember, longer than anyone should have to. He was a part of them now, and they would try and give back what they could, even if it would be laughably inadequate.

The eclipse faded, and the land stayed parched of magic. Freya sighed, and felt Hunith’s frame sag as well, tension leaving her shoulders.

She was relieved. It was stupid, but death was a better alternative to some things, and they had lived life as a parasite, surviving on stolen energy, for too long. She looked at the woman who was a mother to her in every sense other than blood, and saw tears of relief shining in her eyes too.

They were all going to die. But Merlin’s soul remained untarnished. Foolish as it was, she took comfort in that fact.

They sat there, in the strange melancholy that comes with things that end so anticlimactically, so they were surprised when they heard the scream.

It was the High Priestess - no, Freya shook her head, unwilling to be a coward anymore. Nimueh. It was Nimueh’s scream, and Freya could never have guessed that one day she would find such a vicious satisfaction in someone’s pain. Then they waited, as the world started falling apart around them, unconcerned.

Their downfall was well deserved, and had been a long time coming. There was nothing to mourn here.

Just as fear of death gripped her heart, she felt Hunith reach out and touch her face, exuding comfort. She turned and looked at her, and Hunith smiled, despite the agony surrounding them.

“Thank you,” Hunith whispered, “for taking care of my son for so long.”

Freya did not remember the last time she cried, but the words shattered some sort of self-enforced gates in her heart and she sobbed, hugging her, grateful, and scared, and joyous and distraught all at once. At last, it was the end. For better or for worse. And she was ready to step into whatever darkness or light awaited.

So it was typical, that between one breath and next, everything changed, and her vision was flooded with light. Green and gold, intertwined with each other, sang through the veins of the forest, into the hearts of everything alive, soaking into the very earth. Alive, and breathing, and full of energy. She couldn’t breathe when it touched her, her heart beating like it hadn’t in decades, and she felt like she would choke with the heavy pulse of it.

Everything glowed, and she was blinded. And yet, she could see… for the very first time in her life.

“My son.” She heard fierce pride in Hunith’s voice and knew every pore of her body resonated with those emotions.

Emrys.

Emrys was here.

And they were saved.

Distantly, Merlin knew that he had succeeded.

Distantly, he knew that magic was taking a collective new breath at this moment. That broken threads were mending, and the whole of reality was rearranging itself. The prophecy was true and the world was healed.

He knew all that, but he couldn’t appreciate it.

His eyes were glued to the man in his arms, limp… lifeless.

He had saved the magical world, but at what cost? He clutched his fingers in the fabric of Arthur’s clothing and held on. He wasn’t ready to let go yet.

Why did victory feel so much like loss, when he couldn’t see Arthur’s blue eyes shine with pride at him, or twinkle with amusement? When he couldn’t hear him call Merlin an idiot?

He let a tear slip from his eyes and fall on Arthur’s face, and then another, burying his face in Arthur’s unmoving chest.

“ _Merlin_.” He heard the call, and fury burned through him like never before, his magic raging. He clutched Arthur’s tunic harder, afraid he would slip out of his fingers if he let go, and went visiting.

Even without paying attention, he noticed how different things were, how much more vibrant. How every thread glinted with strength. The thing that faltered his steps, for just a moment, was how every thread was connected to him now, was beginning from him. He knew that if he stopped and thought about it, he would be able to decipher what that rearrangement meant. But it was too big a revelation to contemplate right now, and Merlin was too focused on his task to reach his target, to find someone to rage against, scream at and blame, other than himself.

A blink later, he was in the cave, the Dragon waiting for him.

“Kilgarrah,” Merlin snarled, knowing the name without having to be told.

“Emrys.” The Dragon bowed its head, and Merlin was taken aback. It had never done that before.

“You must be happy now. I did as you asked, and your captor is dead. Hurrah! Victory for the last Dragon.”

“Indeed. I am pleased,” the Dragon acquiesced. “And yet, do you not see these chains that bind me?”

“And what do you want me to do? Come over there and break them for you? Like you haven’t exploited me enough!” Merlin shouted and he could feel the fires in the tunnel behind him flare. He didn’t care.

“No. I will not ask that of you. Not right now. In time… everything that is promised will come to pass. But tell me, Warlock. Why are you not pleased?”

“Why should I be? I took a life.”

“As I happen to remember… and as the prophecy foretold, it was Arthur’s choice to make. His sacrifice.”

“That doesn’t make any difference.”

“You will find that it does. Can’t you feel it? The anchor shifting. Can’t you see the threads connecting you to the world of magic… bringing you so much closer to your destiny?”

“I don’t want it.” Merlin shook his head, not wanting to hear it. It wasn’t worth it. Nothing was worth losing the warmth of Arthur’s smile.

“It does not matter what you want. The only thing that matters is what _is_.” The Dragon seemed unperturbed by his outrage and Merlin had a brief moment where he wondered if he could bring the eldest creature of magic down, before he controlled his rage.

“It’s all your fault.”

“I did not force you to go through with it, Emrys. You will find that the choice was your own.”

He did not want to accept it, but he knew truth when it was spoken. He wiped away a tear… he did not deserve to cry.

“Why do you cry? Isn’t this all everyone had been waiting for?”

“Not me. I want him back. He was my friend.” Merlin realized he was begging, begging for someone to make it stop hurting. To fix it.

“How can you ask for something back… that you haven’t lost?” Kilgarrah tilted his head to one side, curious.

“What?” Merlin stared uncomprehendigly..

“Can’t you feel it? The strongest thread, connecting you to the Once-and-Future-King?”

Merlin froze. It couldn’t be that easy. Tentatively, he reached out, his magic zapping along the deepest, most powerful thread and he could… he could. There it was… a beating heart, the unmistakable red and gold of Pendragon, the peculiar shade nobody would ever mimic, strong and vibrant.

Alive.

“How?” He asked, his eyes wide with a childlike wonder.

“The prophecy asked for Arthur’s sacrifice, young Warlock. It never asked for his life,” Kilgarrah answered sagely.

Merlin felt another stab of anger. Couldn’t it have told him that before? But there were more important things to do… so he turned around and started running.

“One day, Merlin, you will free me of these bonds. I will wait for that day. Until then…”

He didn’t hear the rest of the Dragon's speech, finding his way back and jerking awake, his fingers still tangled in Arthur’s shirt.

He sat up and stared, moving his hand until it rested over Arthur’s heart… beating. It was beating. He felt the body shift under his hand and Merlin kept staring, desperate hope filling his chest as he fixated on Arthur’s face.

Slowly, Arthur opened his eyes, and the sky cleared, blue and bright, signaling a new day… a new age.

Merlin bathed in the beauty of it.

 

**EPILOGUE**

 

Arthur was not afraid.

The crown felt heavy on his head, and he found it difficult to breathe because of how tight his royal garments were. The sweat on his hands made it difficult to grip his sword, and his entire framed trembled gently, the emotions too much to contain.

Arthur was excited, yes, worried, maybe, even nervous… but he wasn’t scared.

It was hard to be so, when he just had to look beside him and find all the courage he needed in the determined blue eyes, find the resolve he felt unwavering in the set of his jaw, and find his doubts dissipating because of the proud smile lingering on those lips.

It was impossible to be afraid, when he had Merlin by his side, and hard to falter, with his support behind him.

“You nervous?” Merlin’s tone was teasing, but his eyes were sincere.

“Not even a little bit.” And it wasn’t a lie. Merlin laughed at his cocky tone, and that made Arthur’s spine straighter as he nodded. “Let’s do this.”

They walked side by side to the courtroom, Merlin standing a step behind him as he stood in front of his people and took a deep breath. He looked around, noticing all the faces, familiar as well as unfamiliar: Gaius, standing in front with Morgana, whose eyes glinted with pride and respect, the knights standing firm with their heads held high, the villagers, as many as the room could contain, and he knew there were also standing outside the room, all the way to the castle grounds, gathered to hear what he wanted to say. He also saw people he wasn’t expecting… Sophia, standing in the shadow of one of the pillars, along with Merlin’s mother, her eyes fierce but not angry.

He turned towards Merlin in surprise, who was smiling at him. “They’re all here.”

“All?” Arthur wasn’t sure if Merlin actually meant what he thought he did.

“All.” Merlin reassured, and then quickly muttered a spell, brushing his fingers against Arthur’s hand.

Arthur turned around again, and stared anew, at the bright world, both visible to the human eye, and the invisible. He stood in front of the humans, and the Fae, and the glittering pixies, and the gnomes hiding under people’s feet, and the sorcerers glowing with their auras, and tried not to be overwhelmed by the emotions radiating from them.

Love. Love, and adoration, and respect.

And hope.

Well, Arthur didn’t want to deny them any longer.

“My father was a good king,” he started, and felt the whiplash of emotions at the words, the bitter taste of anger that hurt his soul, but he knew was well deserved. But he had to say it. “I know he cared for this kingdom, and deep down, he wanted to do what was right for it.” And that was all he would say about him, all he could. “But-”

He had never said these words aloud, afraid of being labelled a traitor, but he could feel the green pulse of energy at his back, the endless well of confidence, and continued. “But he made some mistakes, and hurt a lot of people in the process.”

He could feel the hurt, still oozing blood, and it wouldn't ever heal until Arthur did what he meant to, what his people deserved. “I am sorry for that. I am sorry I didn’t do anything back then, and I don’t think I can ever right everything that he did wrong, ever atone for his mistakes.”

And there were so many of them… he almost bled the land dry of all magic, almost killed everything that mattered, dooming the kingdom - and maybe the entire world - to a life that would be worse than death. But there was no reason to linger in the past, when the future awaited.

“But, as my dear sister keeps telling me...” He felt the surge of her affection and grinned, “I am not my father, and thereby, I decree that from this day forward, magic is no longer outlawed in Camelot.”

There was an applause, but he felt more than heard it, drowned in the outpouring of joy that came from the very hearts of the people gathered in the courtroom and beyond.

Merlin stepped forward, his eyes filled with unshed tears, and Arthur found his hand and linked their fingers together. As one, they stood on the podium, and felt the beginning of a new era… together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for taking the time to read. I would love to know what you thought of it. If you have time, please leave a comment. I will probably get back to you with lots of hearts and grateful tears.


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